The Finding Life Series
by Lio
Summary: “Down by Felicity, there’s a large property out in the desert. If I don’t find you by tomorrow, go there and wait for me. Don’t stop for anything, or they might find you. Do you understand?” Contains: VXW & the ol' reincarnation chestnut
1. Coming Back: Chapter 1

This series, which has been two years in the making, was actually brought about by a fit of inspiration I got from reading another fic. Tenshi no Korin's 'Someday out of the Blue', to be precise. You can check out the original at

(www (dot) anime-palace (dot) org (slash) fanfics (slash) somedayoutoftheblue.html)

So if the premise seems familiar to some of you, there's good reason. I beg Tenshi's forgiveness, since she got the story down in 4 pages and I could barely do it in 200+ pages.

THE FINDING LIFE SERIES:

Coming Back

I can still remember that dusty day, all those years ago, when the Father asked me to make a decision. His word had great weight at the time, because I had just been asking myself what this was going to do to my life. I mean, was I sure? Really sure? I hadn't been sure, when I was standing at the bus stop with the father. But then again, I had never been sure of anything.

I wasn't even sure of my name. I knew that Nick wasn't the name I had had when I had arrived at the orphanage. It just sort of stuck. A nickname of a nickname that no one I could remember had given me once. It had finally ended up in the orphanage's paperwork, so I decided to get used to it.

"You are much too reckless Nick." He said as we waited for the bus together.

Father Wolfe had been good to me in his own way. He had even to let me take his last name until I could find one that suited me. Yet for all the kindness he had shown me, he was still a priest at heart, and sermons ran in his veins. I had heard this speech before, and was fighting not to tune it out. I wanted to show some respect for the man of God who stood beside me. We might never see each other again. The least I could do was pay attention.

"I know I am father." The canvas bag with what things I had lain on the ground between us. It separated us like a canyon.

"You must stop taking things so seriously. If you keep running off to do whatever you want all the time, you could find yourself in serious trouble quicker than you think."

That wasn't my fault. That flawless skill for getting into trouble and making it ten times worse than it should have been was not my fault. But I hesitated to explain the true source of my impulse. I wasn't looking to be checked into an asylum anytime soon.

"Won't the church help me?" I asked instead. I had agreed to go to December, to study for the priesthood, because I thought it could help me. My abnormal conscience had been growing more and more insistent with age. Father Wolfe had talked about how faith in God could refocus your wasted energy into good works for others. I wanted to be like Father Wolfe so badly. I wanted to help people with a calm smile; I wanted to somehow know exactly what to do. Most of all, I wanted to start my own orphanage someday, so I could help people as Father Wolfe had helped me.

"It will, a little. But you must draw on your own strength, as well as the Lord's to calm your impulsive natures. Remember that God helps those who help themselves." He said. "But as you work to calm your soul, remember your gift of charity. For all your wanderings, I know you to always help others in need. That is a very good thing Nick, and that it comes so naturally to you, makes me believe there will always be good in your heart."

The bus pulled into the station. We both looked at it and worried.

"Well Nick… Stay out of trouble. And may you always be under the Lord's protection." He extended his hand to shake, a sign of respect and maturity that he gave to few in the orphanage.

I smiled as I took it. "Thanks, father. I'll try."

But I didn't try hard enough.

It took me 2 years to finally get to December. I had met a girl on that bus with dark hair and soulful coffee-brown eyes who called herself Middy for reasons I couldn't figure out. She liked my smile almost as well as I liked hers so she took me home for a while and taught me how to smoke. She did things to me in her Father's barn, things that were the farthest and closest I could get to divinity. Her brother shot me months later and thankfully missed, leaving a large scar blooming out from just above my right hip.

I finally scraped together bus fare to the city by doing things I Was Not Proud Of. I might have been the greenest criminal that ever entered the underworld. Even by the time I finally reached December, I had never fired a gun. Father Wolfe's memory kept me from killing or raping. But I still had dreams that woke me up at night, the lingering feeling of drowning in red, red water.

The head priest had been hard on me, but his own demons gave me a measure of sympathy. After cleaning the halls for a few months, I finally got into the school on a trial basis. I did all right, I guess. The scriptures were easy enough to memorize, the nuns easy enough to pacify if you weren't a smartass and I had started succeeding in turning the doubts that bloomed in my mind into fiery, driven essays that worried my teachers. I couldn't tone down my attitude from abrasive, I was sure that was why I hadn't made any lasting friends in the school. I decided the loner role was a good one for me.

But then I started having the dreams again.

My abnormal conscience had always manifested itself in the same way. I would start having dreams of a man in a black suit. His jacket and white shirt open at the collar, exposing well toned pecs. He stood, looking at me off in the distance. Each time I had had the dream I had been in the middle of debating some choice. Straight and narrow or right and penalized. And I'd keep having the dreams until I took the right choice. It had troubled Father Wolfe for years.

It had confused the hell out of me. I wasn't having any crisis of faith at that time, far from it. Classes were finally starting to wind down for the semester when the dreams began in earnest. I had finally made it to the church, the one place I believed I could be safe on this entire thrice-damned planet. I couldn't figure out what my mind was trying to telling me.

So I ignored the man in the black suit. I watched him, stared back at him for three nights, hoping he'd just go away.

Then one night, just before I had to take a massive test, he walked up to me.

One hand was in a pants pocket, the other hanging loose, casual by his side. He got close enough to me that he could have reached out and touched me and stopped. He looked me over, and then dug into his shirt pocket for one crumpled cigarette.

"Care for one?" he asked. Something told me it was my brand.

"Sure." I said, taking it.

He fished another one out for himself and lit it, then tossed me the lighter. The flame burned red instead of the usual orange and blue. The smoldering end of the butt glowed blue-green.

He pulled the cig away from his lips and blew a pensive smoky breath. "Well?"

Must have been my turn to talk. "Why are you doing this?"

"You aren't supposed to be here. Dammit! You aren't supposed to be here! After all this time, you finally come back and you're wasting your time here? He's out there. He's still out there, he's still alive and he's practically waiting for you to track him down!"

"Who?"

"You know who."

"I don't if I have to ask, do I?"

He considered. "You may be right. Well, you would, if you saw him."

I tried to relight my cigarette, but my hands were shaking so badly, the flame sputtered and died. "Could you go away? I feel like I'm going insane."

"You are insane, if you stay here any longer. A human being only has so many years in their life. Believe me; you've learned that the hard way."

"I'm not going to listen to you." I had finally gotten my cigarette lit, "And I'm not going to talk to you after this. So if you want to say something, anything, say it now."

He shrugged, angrily. "Guess the only thing I can say is that when your past tracks you down, I hope for your sake that you'll know to run after it with everything you've got. I'm sure you can figure that out when the time comes. You can go back to your wonderful life now."

The last few words were spoken with heavy sarcasm, and he walked past me. His shoulders hunched in agony his hands fisted into the pockets of his coat. He cast a shadow like a cross as he made his way out on a plain of white sand, barren and too clean for words. I watched him, the heavy feeling of unfocused longing in my stomach that felt like it had been there for years. I leaned into my cupped hands and flicked the lighter once. The world around me exploded into flame.

I woke up screaming and scared the hell out of my neighbors.

After that I didn't dream for three years.

But what finally started the whole incident, the one that would by some standards ruin my life, was a request from one of the head fathers.

"Help you with services on Sundays?" I had asked, knowing I sounded like a child and I hating myself for it.

"Well not for a while, but yes." The Father, Father Leon, had been a man who frustrated easily and had the broken capillaries on his nose to prove it. "Your teachers say you're doing well, and they have high hopes for you after your training is complete. I'm taking in a couple of students to help me with services when our new cathedral opens in the middle of May, and your name came up."

"That's very kind of them." I hadn't realized my teachers thought of me at all until that point. The fact that I was on someone's radar, let alone that they considered me fixable had made me slightly nauseous. I had always thought of myself as the one who was going to show them all someday; the reality was irritating.

"Well then, can I assume that your answer is yes?" his smile was contagious, but my heart didn't mirror what my face was doing. I was comfortable in my little nest of bibles, finally starting to feel at peace with myself. And, aside from the continued queasiness, I hadn't dreamed in a long time by then. My little voice finally seemed to be gone.

I supposed if I had refused it then, the inevitable might have never happened. But the fathers rarely asked for help, and at the time, I decided it was a chance to get out of the school for a little while in the spring.

"Sure, father. You can count me in."

The month of May had come and gone peacefully.

The chores I took on at the new cathedral meshed well with my continued responsibilities at the school, and I barely felt the transition at all.

In time they had me teaching the youth meetings with another student. We enjoyed the overwhelming female attention we had started to get, but we knew better than to do anything foolish. My partner, a boy so easy to forget I was still asking his name after weeks of working with him, feared any slip ups would affect his future. I knew any stupidity on my part would bring back my past.

I thought of my past often, and had been thinking of it when I had gone outside for a smoke the first day of June.

That day one of our newer members, a girl who had said her name was Sandy, had been asking me why priests didn't marry. I had mentioned some of Christ's teachings and the need for control over ones emotions while tending to the flock, but she had still looked doubtful, and a little disappointed. Finally, I had told her that it was an odd rule, but the church had made it for one reason or another, and I certainly wasn't going to be the first to question it. She had muttered some excuse, and wandered off to join her friends.

She made me think about Middy. Not so much the way she looked, but that girlish longing that begged you to bend the rules Just This Once, For Me. Back then I still remembered the way Middy looked smiling in the moonlight with a certain childish longing. I had done wonderful things in that loft.

Things I thought had barred me from the priesthood forever, in fact. But when I got to December and confessed, I was surprised that their policy nowadays was one of a 'keep your damn mouth shut' nature. The numbers of people who got through the training and actually became priests were low, so the church let things happen that weren't supposed to happen. Both before and after the fact. I made me think more than I should.

Even I knew students weren't supposed to wear cossack cloaks until they were ordained, but Father Leon had pulled a few strings. We each had our own set to wear during services, so long as we were careful with them. I could understand people wanted to see a priest who looked like a priest, but wearing a long black coat on what was still a desert planet seemed like a dumb idea.

That day I had, like always, taken mine off and hung it up carefully before I went outside for a smoke.

We still didn't have rain as the colonists would have defined it, not yet. The best we ever got was a rare, thin mist. It fell down on everything and got you soaking wet before you even realized it. It was misting when stepped outside, cool and gentle. The clouds creating the stuff were light, and you could still see the suns clearly shinning through the grey layer.

"The Devil's beating his wife." I murmured. It was something Father Wolfe used to say, an old saying carried over with the colonists. I had been so busy looking up at the sky that I nearly didn't hear the door swing close. I tugged on the handle. Locked. Dammit. I would have to go around to the other side of the building to get back in.

Stressed, I had reasoned that there was no sense going back in without a smoke. I patted my pockets but found them empty. Fuck it all. This was getting more and more complicated by the minute.

I leaned against the church and watched the people hurrying along as I talked myself into going all the way back inside for something I couldn't possibly enjoy in a few minutes left. People were moving quickly, heads covered, trying to get out of the rain like it was acidic. I still can't understand why anyone would want to. Rain is a gift. It showed that we had finally conquered our environment, a more potent reminder than the rusting hulls of the colonist's ships that the Historical Committee had bitched and moaned about preserving.

There was one guy who seemed to be enjoying the rain as much as I was. He was sitting on a nearby stone bench, just on the edge of where the church ended and the park next door started. You could tell he was tall, even sitting down. He was wearing a dark, dark wine colored trench coat that looked black in certain patches of light. It didn't fit him well, like it was bought off the rack, years ago, and had had several bad days since. The honey blond hair at his forehead, temples and behind his ears was spiked up and sagging slightly in the rain. But the rest lay across his shoulders in clumps. It made him look like a demented human hedgehog, and contrasted oddly with the sad, faraway look on his face.

The bench had no back, so I sat down next to him, facing the opposite way. "Hey," I said, "Bum a smoke?"

The blonde head winced, so slight I could have imagined it. He reached into his coat and pulled out an open pack. It was nearly a full one, but old and a bit beat up, smelling more like lint than tobacco. I was delighted to see that the brand was mine.

"Thanks." I said, flicking my lighter. The paper sputtered for a second, then caught.

"No problem." He tucked the pack back into his jacket, staring out into the garden. Looking over my shoulder, I couldn't see anything interesting. It was just pots of brown, hearty plants that the city was trying to get to flourish.

I had noticed the clock above me said I had a few minutes before I was late and had to start running. I tended to be a ball of stress during my breaks, but that day I hadn't felt like going anywhere. "Care to join me?" I asked, exhaling.

He didn't turn, just kept staring out across the square. "No thanks. I don't smoke."

The way he said it was almost as odd as the statement itself. "Really? You carry around a pack for charity?"

He didn't answer.

I leaned in and looked at him in profile. He was unbelievably pale against the dark red of his coat, but his eyes were well covered behind a pair of funky orange sunglasses. His face was sad. No, sad was too mild. It looked like someone had stabbed him in the heart years ago, and was still twisting the knife around.

I wanted to make this guy react. Do something besides think about whatever he was chewing on. A joke, a question, an odd comment, anything… For a second I thought about punching him, but ruled that out. You don't maintain the dignity of the church by coming to service with a black eye.

He finally felt me watching him. "Charity, yeah. Something like that." He said, shortly, hoping to satisfy me. He tried to grin, but the grin was just as empty as he seemed to feel, and he abandoned it.

In a smooth turn of his head, he turned and looked at me. Straight on. Eyeball to eyeball.

His eyes widened. He stared. I stared.

I've heard it called by a Colonist word, an old phrase taken from a long dead language. "Déjà vu": You get it in little bursts. Like a toy in a pawn shop window, the kind that you played with as a kid. Little everyday connections that are so general they're personal. Usually you don't pay it much mind. Give it a, 'Huh. Odd.' and move on.

But… I didn't just know this guy, I _knew_ this guy.

I knew the dumb hair, the pale skin, the nose that was the right angle to be cute. I saw the mole on his right cheek and wasn't irritated like I would normally be. It was supposed to be there, it was all supposed to be where it was, because I had seen it somewhere in the time before, and I _KNEW_ this guy.

Hell if I knew how.

I wanted to hug him so bad my teeth hurt. But why the hell would I want to hug a complete stranger?

He leaned in. I leaned in.

"Where were you?" he asked.

It had all turned into a sparkly, slow motion sequence. Anything could have happened outside of the space between our faces and we would have never noticed. He felt the same way. I wasn't the only one completely confused. And he had said something hadn't he?

"Sorry…" I heard myself answer, "I've been busy."

The church bell rang and we both startled.

"4 o clock…" I heard myself say. The afternoon service… That's right. I had duties. And the farther away I got from this guy, the better. "Dammit."

The cigarette had barely burnt at all but I had dropped it, ground it out. I looked back at the guy. He had looked… god, scared. Lonely. He had looked like he was panicking worse than I had been.

Dammit. Where did I know this guy from?

I heard the bell rang again.

"Thanks for the cigarette." I said. My body turned, and my legs started running. As soon as I rounded the corner, I felt like I was going to throw up.

My feelings had been mercurial, shifting from one to the other in quick succession. Go back. I had to go back. Maybe he was still sitting there on the bench. Maybe I could still catch him. He knew who I was, didn't he? Even I wasn't sure who I was. It wouldn't hurt to ask. Sweet Jesus, where did I know him from? No. No, I'm too impulsive. I've always been too impulsive. I was late enough as it is. Screw being late. I knew I had just missed something important. No. It was better to go with what I knew. What I knew to be true, to be solid, to be consistent. Go. Run. Now.

When I had gotten to the other door and tried to turn the handle.

Locked.

Panicked, feeling like some unknown emotion was right on my heels, I started pounding on it.

When Father Leon opened up the door for me, he looked shocked. My hands were shaking so badly, I could barely keep a grip on the door handle.

Next Monday: Revelations of the Secular kind.


	2. Coming Back: Chapter 2

I hadn't been well enough to attend to services. Father Leon had given me use of his office to compose myself. He was disappointed that I was still lying on the couch when he returned. "Wolfe, you look like Death warmed over. Come now, will you at least tell me what the Devil has scared you so?"

"I… I wish I knew," The Father had turned on the lamp on his desk, and my hands went to my eyes to cover them. I had cried until they were completely raw. "I'm facing a crisis of faith…. but I don't know why."

"Do you know what had made you feel this way?" he had asked, as his pen scratched.

"I met someone in the park."

The pen stopped. "I see. Well, even the strongest of our flock must feel the influence of the devil, and his woeful animal natures…"

"It wasn't like that father. It wasn't even a woman, it was a man!"

"Oh…well…" Father Leon stumbled over his words, and I realized I was only making the situation worse.

"He just… he reminded me of something I did. But I can't remember what I did, or why he reminded me of it." I said, "And what's worse, he seemed to know what I didn't, but I was too afraid to ask him."

"Did this man give any indication that he knew who you were? Did he say your name before you offered it, or talked about an event that you remember?"

"Not exactly..."

"Then I'm afraid it was all in your mind. Perhaps you've been working to hard, lately."

"I don't think that's it Father." That wasn't it at all, I remembered thinking. I had just missed something important and, fuck it all, I didn't know what the hell I had just missed!

"No, perhaps not. Perhaps it is something else that your mind is trying to say, but you have hidden it so deeply that it has found other ways to make its presence known?"

"That… could be it."

"Well then. Pray for God to give you guidance to see where your true weaknesses lie, so that you may correct them." He said, as if reciting the obvious, "And try to meditate on what about the experience shocked you."

"Meditate father?"

"The soothing balm of work will help to clear your mind and ease your suffering. May I suggest cleaning the hall to make it up to the other brothers taking over your duties for this past mass?"

I knew my fellow brothers-in-training had been glad that they had gotten out of this little chore. People stuff an amazing array of trash into the hymnal shelves, since there are no nearby trashcans in the sanctuary. Can't have trashcans in the church, people might start thinking we're human. The wood cleaner for the pews always burned your skin when you worked with it for too long.

With all the cleaning and polishing, I had been looking forward to going home to the embrace my lumpy mattress.

"Brother Nick?" it was my fellow classmate, the one whose name I could never remember. He had been wearing our school uniform and had his book bag slung over one shoulder.

"Here." I had capped the bottle of the cleaner, and wiped my hands on one of the cleaner rags.

"You have a visitor."

At the time I thought it was Sandy, still trying to find a divine loophole. "OK, yeah. Send them in."

The blonde guy didn't see me at first; he was looking around the chamber, lost. As soon as he saw me, a smile that I immediately liked spread over his face. That smile reached all the way to his eyes.

As he had walked over to me I wanted to run up, hug him, and tell him I was glad he tracked me down. I wanted to punch, kick, flee, and yell for someone to help me. I settled for standing there like a statue.

"Hi there!" He smiled even as he spoke, cheerful as the suns. "Do you remember me?"

It sounded like I was supposed to on a level that was more significant than our brief meeting. "Yeah, from the park. Thanks again for the smoke."

"Yeah, that's it." He had looked a little sadder than he had a second ago and I couldn't help wondering what I had said. "Sorry I had to bug you again, but you dropped this."

He held out my lighter, pinched between two fingers. I hadn't even realized I had dropped it. In fact I could have sworn I put it back in my pocket.

"Hey, it's no problem, I enjoy visitors. Especially when they bring me gifts."

"It's not really a gift if it's yours to begin with."

"Huh… Good point." Then, in a rush, before I could stop myself, I asked, "You're new here, aren't you? I haven't seen you around."

"Yeah, just got in today."

"Here on business?" It seemed a safe question at the time. Not many people came into town for any other reason.

"No, I heard they built a new church here. I wanted to see it."

"Which branch of the church are you a member of?"

"I'm not, actually. I just like the buildings themselves. They remind me of… old friends."

He seemed sad again, which had frustrated me to no end. "Is there something bothering you? When you were in the park before, you seemed a million iles away."

"Maybe a little. Places like this bring back old memories."

"Do you want to talk about it? I know I don't look like much, but I am a priest." I grinned.

He made an effort to laugh with me. "No offense, but I've never had much luck with confession."

"Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"…well" he said, quietly, almost embarrassed, "… there is one thing…"

"Wow! These are really good! It's been a long time since I've had doughnuts that were this good! Here, you wanna try one?" the guy said, beaming like the suns.

Considering buying them had cleaned me out, I should have. "Nah, I'll pass." I lit my next cigarette with my last one and puffed like a sand steamer. The mist had burned off, and it looked like it would become a nice day before night fell in an hour or so. There were kids playing with a big red rubber ball in the town square like life would always be that simple.

It was the first time in a long time that I had felt any peace.

As I thought back about it, the last time I had felt at peace was when I woke up at the orphanage for the first time and Father Wolfe had said that the slime ball who had called himself a guardian would never bother me again. Downright pathetic to think that had been the last time I hadn't felt anxious or strained. But nice to know I could still find it again.

"Are you thinking about something?" the guy asked.

"Home," I said.

"Where's that?" he asked, shoving another doughnut into his mouth.

"Just an old orphanage a couple hundred iles away from here." I had said, then without knowing why, continued, "I left there when I was 14. Don't know why I'm missing the old place now."

The guy's mouth was full, but he had looked sympathetic.

"Well, it's not like I can go back or anything. Hell if I know why I'm feeling like this now."

"Hey, I thought preachers weren't supposed to swear!" the guy said around the last mouthful of doughnut.

"Actually preachers can, priests shouldn't. But I won't be a priest for a while yet, so there's time left to break the habit."

"You're not a priest?"

I felt a splinter of some anxious emotion work its way into my relaxation. "Well, not yet. I'm still in training." And as I had though about it, if all kept going as planned, my training would be done in a couple months. I could have been ordained by that month next year.

I wasn't sure why that had panicked me as much as it had.

I turned and saw the guy looking at me. He seemed nervous. I started feeling worse. God. Those eyes would have made Judas confess. "Hey, don't worry. I'm not any less of a man of God."

"I wasn't…" He had reached for another doughnut, but the bag was empty. "Mmph." He crumpled it up and aimed for a trashcan on the other side of the courtyard. 3 points.

"Good shot." I said.

"Why can't you go back?"

The question startled me. The fact that I answered it startled me even more. "I did some things I'm not proud of."

"Is that all? Aw, c'mon. Don't beat yourself up over it! What kind of trouble could a teenager get into anyway?" He had kept smiling, but his tone said that he knew all too well, and most likely from personal experience.

"I wasn't your average 16 year old."

"16? Didn't you say…?" We were interrupted by a red rubber ball, bright and cheerful, bumping against the toe of the guy's boot. I hadn't noticed earlier, but I realized in a rush that the guy was wearing some pretty complicated boots. They matched his gloves.

"Vash!" a little kid across the square was yelling. "Hey, Vash! Over here!"

The punt he gave to the ball was just as accurate as the trashcan shot. The kids giggled as they caught it, tripping over themselves.

"Your name's Vash?" I asked.

"Yeah." He smiled down at me. "It's unique, don't you think?"

"Must have gotten you beaten up as a kid. Your parents must have been pretty interesting if they named you after the humanoid typhoon."

He stiffened. "You know about Vash the Stampede?"

"Yeah, the Father used to tell us some of the nicer legends as bedtime stories. I always liked the one where he saved the town by taking down the Nebraska family."

"You… you still like them?"

"Mmm..." I muttered, pausing to light my next cigarette with my last one, "Not as much as I did when I was a kid. As I got older and heard some of the other ones, it started to ruin it for me."

"Oh… w-why?"

"Well, there were just as many good stories as bad ones. And some of them were contradictory. Like the destruction of July… I first heard people say he killed everyone when he destroyed the city of July. Then I heard, no, he had destroyed all the buildings, but no one got killed in the blast. But then people just stayed and stayed, fighting over what was left of their houses and lands until people started killing themselves. The more legends I heard about July, the more realistic it got, and the more I realize how horrible humanity can be on its own. Maybe Vash never existed at all. Maybe it's just a story moms tell their children to try and teach them something. When there was the possibility that it wasn't real, I stopped liking the legends." I took a long drag to stop talking. God, I had been depressed in that moment.

He had seemed uncomfortable, but when he spoke, his voice was reverent. "Did anyone ever tell you about the crater on the fifth moon?"

"That he blasted a hunk of it off? Yeah, I heard about that."

"Did you hear why he did it?"

"No, not really…"

"He did it to save the life of an assassin, a samurai sent to kill him."

"Yeah right! What kind of desperate bastard would go after Vash the Stampede?"

He didn't say. He seemed far away again. That was really starting to irritate me.

"All right, so he blasted a crater into the fifth moon. And since it's there, that proves he existed. So what? It's been over a hundred and fifty years since July was destroyed. Even a guy that powerful couldn't exist forever."

"… Yeah, guess so," he said as he sat down next to me.

I had been increasingly wondering how I was supposed to help this guy if he didn't tell me what was wrong. My hand found his shoulder again, and he had looked up at me. "You still look awful, you know." I said.

"I feel worse."

"You know, if I wasn't a broke priest, I'd offer to buy you a drink."

"You said you aren't a priest yet."

"I'm still broke." I protested.

"Well, I'm not." He was smiling again, just at the corners of his mouth. "How about, as an act of charity, you watch me get drunk? I think I need to stop thinking for a while."

"Well. Anything for charity, I always say."

"You sure he's staying here?" I felt like a complete asshole asking the grandmotherly proprietress of the hotel while having a half-witted, babbling moron leaning on my shoulder. I was still wearing the church's uniform, and the poor woman was still in her nightgown and looked like she had been pulled out of a pretty deep sleep.

"Yeah, I remember him. He didn't seem like kind to be a drunkard when he came in. Here's the key."

"Much obliged ma'am."

"Be obliged all you want, sonny, but if he messes up my carpets he's going to pay for them."

Of course he had to have a room on the third floor. By the second floor, he was starting to fall asleep, and the dead weight threatened to do things my shoulder it wasn't designed to do. I leaned him up against the wall and slapped him across the face as gently as I could.

"C'mon buddy." I had muttered, "It's only a little bit further to your room. You've got to help me out."

"But I'm nice n' comfy here."

"You can't pass out in a hallway!" I said shaking him by his shoulders, "C'mon. Just put one foot in front of the other. You can go to sleep soon."

"Comfy…" he said before he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me.

I was surprised he had done it. I was surprised he was so strong. I was surprised how good it felt. My hands had wrapped around his back before I knew it.

What the HELL was I doing?

"If you really want to harass me, Vash, could you at least do it after we get you to your room?"

"Promise?" he asked, still holding on to me.

"Sure, whatever. Now let's just go?"

He whined, but stumbled in the direction I pointed him.

Chanting which foot he should use helped, (right, left, right, left) but it took us forever to get to his room, let alone figure out how to open the door without him collapsing into a heap on the floor. Had to watch out for the carpets, the way he had been drinking tonight he might not have much money left.

"Y'know, I would have guessed you to be a lot of things," I told him as I laid him down on the bed, and went back to shut the door. No sense waking the neighbors. "But I would have never thought you were this much of a lightweight."

"Yeah… you'd think…. I'd build up… some staminininaya… or something."

"You going to be OK?"

"Doin' what?"

"Going to sleep. You're not going to puke, or anything, are you?"

"A'ready did."

"… Oh, that's right…" I groaned, "How could I so easily forget that lovely alleyway…"

"Yeah…so… um… I think I'll be OK." He was trying to take off his coat, fumbling with the buttons.

"Oh for… C'mon. Sit up."

"Why-y-y?"

After several tries, I finally wedged myself behind him and worked his coat off. Underneath was an impossibly complicated leather jumpsuit that I wouldn't have attempted, even if we were both stone-cold sober. There was a belt with a holster too, but he carried no weapon. I started working on trying to get those damn boots off while I was in the neighborhood.

"Thanks Nick."

"Just don't throw up on me and we'll call it even." I realized something and stopped mid-task. "How did you know my name?"

"The guy back at the church told me."

Shit, that's right. "Must have forgotten that."

"What's the o'da one?" He had blinked, and then snorted at his distorted voice.

"What other one?"

"Your o'da name." More snorting and some giggling.

Sigh. "Wolfe. My last name is Wolfe. I'm Brother Nick Wolfe. Got it?" I tried my best to emphasize the Brother part.

"Should have known that…" Vash muttered, as his face buried itself against the nape of my neck.

"Well now you do." I began to notice the soft breath teasing my skin, and what it meant he must be thinking about. "I need to get going."

"Why?" he whined.

Because I was starting to loose trust in myself. "Because lock down is in 15 minutes, and I already have a lot to answer for." I told him, "Charity is one thing, but…"

"You promised me I could harass you…" he said, barely conscious and whining. His hand gently gripped my leg and I felt my entire body twitch.

"I'll have to give you a rain check on that for now." I tried to get up. He wasn't moving. "Look, I'm not gay!" I said, but it had had little effect. On either of us. My body had already decided it was going to enjoy itself with or without me.

"You always say that." He pouted. "Just stay until I pass out. I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Fuck. Fuck me. I wasn't going to leave now. I couldn't even if I had been free to make a break for the door. Why did I always do this to myself?

"God Almighty…" I growled, as I slung a friendly arm over his shoulders.

The first thing I realized, shortly thereafter, was that he wasn't as drunk as I thought he was. The second thing was that he was as good as his word, if not better. His hands were busy, but they never went where they weren't supposed to go. And he didn't kiss me, even when I knew he wanted to, and even after I had started wishing he would.

The next morning had brought the realization that I was tangled together in a complete stranger's bed, with the complete stranger and I wasn't quite sure what part of December I had landed up in. But the understanding had been innocent at first, bereft of any thought of sin. I lay there, wondering if I should really try to get the feeling back into my left leg, or stay and breathe in his curious smell. The only real annoyance that came to mind was that I was still fully dressed.

But the church bells struck ten in the distance and cold reality came rushing back.

What the hell was I thinking?

How was I going to get out of this? Was I going to be able to get out of this?

Nothing had happened.

No but something could have happened! And no one was going to believe me when I told them nothing had happened! And even if they never heard about this, there was still the fact that I hadn't been in for roll call, I smelled like the floor of a saloon, I had missed classes already… I hadn't even finished cleaning last night! Fuck fuck FUCK!

I had told myself that I had to think, couldn't panic, and what was the most plausible lie I could come up with? He was my long lost cousin? No, no one would mistake us for family. He was an old friend? Since when did I have any friends? Dammit!

"Nick?"

"Sorry. I've got to go." I hadn't been paying much attention, trying to find where my left shoe had ended up.

"Why?"

"I'm in a lot of trouble right now. I've got to get to the church as fast as I can."

"Can I help?"

The instant thought that had come had been a sarcastic, 'Oh, you've helped plenty.' "Just don't come looking for me for a few days, and things should be fine. Something tells me I'm not going to be seeing the light of day for a while."

He had watched me, quietly, before asking, "Do you want me to leave?"

I found my left shoe and had pulled it on. "Why would you leave? It's your room!"

"I meant the city."

He had said it so sadly, I wanted to go back and hold him. "No, course not. Why would I want you to leave?" The rush of needing to get out of here NOW kicked back in. Had to cut this short, had to go now, dammit. "Come see me in a few days if you'd like, just let me get out of here. My ass is already in the fire, big time."

I saw him smile as I bolted. And somehow that almost made up for it.

But, oh, I paid for that night.

I was lectured by the principal of the school and two nuns on top of Father Leon's lengthy speech about responsibility. Rulers got involved in unpleasant ways. I did Hail Mary's until my fingers blistered. I was scrubbing floors both in the school and in the church on top of my regular duties. If you've never scrubbed all the floors in a Cathedral, see that you don't make it an option in your future.

Along with the rifts in my obedience, I tried to repair the rifts in my soul. Each night I prayed that God would grant me insight as to what I was supposed to do. No divine answer came to me. But then again, I wasn't sure what trespasses I had truly committed.

What I feared more was the sins I would go on to commit if I was lax the next time I saw him again.

But after a week had passed, I started to worry more that I would never see him again. He hadn't been around anywhere and I had been seriously looking between classes. He had said that he moved frequently, maybe he had decided to leave the pervert little priest in training be and go on with his life. I started waking up in the middle of the night, wondering if I could slip past the doors and gates to go and see him. And when I knew I couldn't, I couldn't get back to sleep.

Around the time my 20th birthday had come around, I started dreaming again. But the man in the suit who looked like me wasn't in any of them. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

Two weeks after I last saw the guy I had been leaning against a building near the center of the town around dusk, trying to think. I hadn't been thinking in my room, since the nuns had insisted that if I was going to keep up 'that filthy habit', I would do so at my own risk and off of school grounds. I figured I had another hour to think before I had to walk back.

I had been wondering what the hell was taking him so goddamn long. I had told him flat out, that he could come to see me after a few days or so. Though I had to still be on my best behavior, I was more or less out of the woods by now.

"Nice night." A voice beside me said. I had turned and saw that he was suddenly leaning against the wall next to me.

"GAH!" I jumped, "What the…. How'd you… with the…"

"I saw you standing here, so I thought I'd come over," He had said, getting all googly-eyed, and somehow very sparkly, "I didn't mean to startle you. Real sorry if I did."

"…Well you should be!" I told him, "Just where have you been hiding?"

"I saw how much trouble you got into." He said, "I didn't want to make it worse."

"Thanks for the concern, but I don't think you could have made it worse." I had paused, "I thought you had ended your business trip and were heading home."

"It's not exactly a business trip. And I don't have a home to speak of, at the moment," he said, "Guess you have to put up with me for a little while longer."

"Well… all right then."

He graced me with a smile, and I started to feel good.

"Listen, can you at least tell me where I can get a hold of you if—" The church bell rang out, cutting me off. I began to hating that thing for the first time during my stay in December. "Dammit all to hell."

"I thought you said you were trying to stop swearing." Vash had said.

"Yeah, but the longer I hang out with you, the more reasons I find to keep the habit alive." I replied, "I didn't realize how much time had flown by."

"Yeah, guess so." His smile had still been in place, but his eyes were somewhere else for a moment, "Do you need to be somewhere?"

"Back at school. They're going to start locking doors soon."

"Would you get in trouble if I walked with you?"

I'm sure I had looked startled, but the surprise was pleasant. "Not at all."

Next Monday: Running Away


	3. Coming Back: Chapter 3

We never had a place that we'd meet; he would just find his way into my path everyday. We'd talk for as long as we could, and then he'd walk me back to the dormitories. It was nice to have someone you could just talk to about nothing and everything, like an old friend.

But every time we parted ways at the end of the day, I had an irresistible urge to invite him upstairs for a drink. I couldn't do that of course, even if the school permitted it, I didn't drink. But I wanted there to be some progression, didn't want to just keep leaving him on the doorstep. But even if I did get him up in my room, what was I expecting to happen? Desire was constantly racing with feelings of starting an honest friendship with the man. Some days I wasn't sure which one was winning.

It didn't help that I didn't get much out of him, when I tried to talk about his past. I got that he had been traveling a while, and that he had dealt with guns and bars and saloons a lot during his last steady job. I wanted to know how he knew me, and I wasn't sure how to bring it up in conversation.

Then, one day I finally did.

"There sure are a lot of new buildings around here." He said as we walked by a new dry goods shop that was coming up, "It's amazing how fast this city grows."

"Can't say I've noticed it. But it must be real different from your last visit."

"Yeah… but that was a long time ago."

"How long?" I asked.

"Huh?" A guilty blush stained his cheeks.

"Your last visit, how long ago was it?"

"Real long ago, actually, years. There probably isn't anyone around here who'd remember me." He said, hand behind his head in embarrassment. "Why do you want to know?"

"Hmm." I stopped at the bench where I had met him, more than a month by then, and sat down. He paused in confusion for a moment and sat down next to me.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Y'know, the orphanage I come from is only a few hundred iles away from here. I once came into the city with a group of my friends with the father that ran the place. He wanted to take the trip to show us kids the big city. I got into trouble, even under the father's careful eye, but I don't think I've ever had more fun than I did that day." I looked at him. He seemed completely clueless. "I was about 9 then. So it's been at least 11 years. Were you around here anytime around then?"

"I don't remember, actually." He said, "Why do you ask?"

"Look Vash…" I said, "I know I've met you before. It's just a gut feeling, and I don't know how or where I met you, but I think you know me from somewhere as well. So could you please cut the crap, and tell me how you know who I am?"

"I'd rather not." He said. "It's kind of… well… silly. I might scare you away. And it's been so nice, just talking to you. It's been a while since anyone was as nice to me as you are…"

"How long?"

He didn't answer.

"Vash, you make it sound like it was ages ago."

He closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Look, you know everything about me." I said, "The least you could do is share something about yourself. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall."

"I don't mean to be. Really."

"Then tell me how you know me. I'm sure the conversation will get livelier." I said. I paused and started a new cig by lighting it off of the old one. "Of course it could all be in my head. I've read so many school books lately, I feel like I'm going crazy."

His eyes blinked over, and he looked at me, as I wolfed down smoke. I tried not to turn and stare at him, knew he needed this moment to figure out what he was going to do. Finally he looked at the ground before he asked, "Nick… do you believe that… sometimes people come back?"

"Come back?" I repeated, "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" he stopped and laughed at himself, "Reincarnation, I guess. When your soul decides to come back in another body after you passed on."

There was a hard gust of wind that hit my back in that second, and it wasn't just in the physical world.

"It's OK if you don't know it; I don't think it's a Christian term…"

"No, no… I've heard of it."

"Oh… do you… do you think it's… possible?"

"No one's ever asked me. Guess I've never really thought about it." I said.

He didn't say a word and he looked absolutely miserable.

"What about you?" I asked. "Do you believe in this kind of stuff?"

"I didn't… but… " he said, trailing off. He shook his head. "You'll think I'm nuts."

"You won't know until you try." I offered.

"… The first time I saw you… I thought it might be possible."

"What am I, a religious experience?"

"Something like that."

If was a come-on, it was the strangest one I'd ever heard of. "Why me?"

"Because… Because you look exactly like someone I used to know… a long time ago."

"What?"

"You do… right down to your little habits. You look like him, you joke like him, you talk to kids the same way, and you even hold a cigarette the way he…" he looked up and stopped. An old happy expression that had worked its way up onto his face

When he saw me again, as me, not as this old memory, it suddenly dropped off.

"He used to live around here, and he was a man of the cloth as well." He told my shoes, "It took me by surprise, so I had to see for myself if you were anything like him."

I couldn't speak.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I shook my head, for lack of anything better to say, finished the cig, which was starting to burn the filter, before I dropped it to the pavement and ground it out. "So… um… what was this guy's name?"

"He called himself Nicholas D Wolfwood." He said the name like a prayer. "He was a preacher, though, not a priest. But it was long ago, way before your time. I guess I still miss him a lot and the way he died… if I had been where I was supposed to be, he wouldn't have..."

I didn't say anything. How could I? What do you say to something like that?

He stopped in front of the building, and looked at me, guilty, over one shoulder. He stood there like that for a long time before he looked away. "Don't worry. You don't have to speak to me again."

And I stood there like an idiot as he walked away.

When he didn't find me the next day, I decided to go looking.

The town hall records were well documented had been ever since the time of the colonists. And they were easy enough to get into as well. It was finding the time in a day that was hard.

I ended up sneaking out of the school during lunch to go rummage in the records. At first it was frustrating. There was just too much information, dry lifeless facts. Births, Deaths, anyone and everyone who bought or lived on land in and around December. But Nicholas D. Wolfwood didn't seem to be among them. I looked under Wolfwood for anyone and got thousands of responses. I looked for N Wolfwood, hundreds. N D Wolfwood, still hundreds. I thought limiting it to the last twenty years would make it easier. Vash didn't look older than twenty himself, so even if his friend was an elderly man by the time he was killed, Vash would only remember him if he lived in the last 10 years or so.

Right?

Nothing.

I was getting frustrated, and the time I had before the church knew I was missing class was getting shorter and shorter.

The library lady at the front desk noticed my frustration as I returned the mountain of files I had pulled. "You couldn't find what you were looking for, dear?"

"Not unless there's any other way to track down a priest who's lived in our area."

"Oh Honey… you're looking for a priest? You of all people should know we keep clergy in a separate set of files."

Veins were ready to burst in my head. "Separate…. Files?"

"If you had told us before, we could have saved you some trouble. Come here sugar…"

The files were sorted by last name. Praise the lord. The lady opened the file cabinet with her key, and excused herself. The W's for the last ten years were pretty slim, and no Wolfwood. I checked back twenty years, still no sign of Wolfwood. Thirty years, just in case. Nobody.

I stood up, popping the vertebra in my back. It was hopeless. Vash was probably long gone by now, Nicholas D Wolfwood didn't exist and I was going to be late for my last class.

Then, I checked my watch and realized I was already was.

If I ran, I might make it to class in time for the teacher to chew me out in front of my delighted classmates.

I looked over the rest of the W files, lumped together. They went as far back as the 0100's.

There were so few of them, in comparison to the rest of the files.

It would be pretty easy to misplace something if you were in a rush.

With an overwhelming feeling of apprehension, I locked up the files I had been looking at, and unlocked the earliest file cabinet and started going through the files one by one.

In the end, he had been correctly filed. That didn't stop it from shocking the hell out of me.

Every piece of paper in the file was yellow, and curling with age.

But it was him. Nicholas D Wolfwood, at least the only one they had. The file had been started for tax purposes when he had laid down roots in the area. His age was listed as an approximate, his town of birth, unknown. He was listed as a metal smith as well as a priest. The majority of the file was about the children under his care, each name listed and catalogued with loving detail. There were even notes made about nicknames. Over a hundred little kids. Two women, who both had names which made me think of large, pleasant great-aunts, were listed as seasonal caretakers.

A copy of a makeshift coroner's report was also in the file. The report itself raised more questions than it answered. There were explanations about the town in question being mysteriously deserted days before. Agents of the old Bernerdelli insurance firm being the only ones present to record what happened. There were general facts of a sniper committing suicide, a gunslinger who escaped custody and a mention of the Stampede himself to round it off. Even the date of death was general. The only clear fact was that he had been turned into Swiss cheese by machine gun fire. Metal smith, huh?

The last thing that had been added to the file was that report, and that had been placed there more than a hundred years ago. How could Vash have known about this guy, let alone knew him personally? Was it just some punk who had taken the name of an obscure idol, a relative, and forgot to tell Vash his real identity before he was taken away?

I saw the pictures last, because they had been kept in a special separate pouch to discourage aging.

They aged me pretty quickly.

One was a black and white picture that almost looked like a carefully cropped mug, shot of Nicholas in bad times, a cigarette hanging pensive from his lip. The second was a clipped newspaper article. He was posing with a bunch of kids, the kids were holding up some sort of award, smiles on their worn little faces.

The third was a picture in faded color, rare for the times back then. Nicholas was shaking the hand of some sort of overdressed government official, people on either side of him.

Nicholas was smiling like he had been born to stand in front of a camera.

Nicholas was me.

A dead ringer. Carbon copy. All right, so the hair was different, but it wouldn't have been if I hadn't shaved my head. Maybe a little older and a little hungrier, but it was me. All me.

And in every single picture he wore the same black suit, white dress shirt, both open to show off his pecs.

Dear Heavenly Father, have mercy on my soul.

I tucked the other pictures back into the pouch and looked at the colored one closely. The government official had several people similarly dressed people crowding around him, but the group of people behind Nicholas was much more diverse. There were two women with him. The tall one was smiling right up into her eyes, eyes that were a pale blue color that I had only seen before in very young babies. The other one was short, dark grey and white in everything, and pouting like she didn't want to be there. There was a blond man in the picture, but he had just turned his head as the shutter had been snapped. The blond was wearing a coat that was redder than blood and had more snaps, fasteners and extra strips of fabric that were attached for no reason than I had ever seen before. Even the whores that worked the west side didn't dress that gaudy.

It finally hit me just as I was thinking that those gloves looked awfully familiar…

I ran to the hotel I knew Vash was staying at from the hall of records. When they told me he had just left, I ran to the sand steamer junction, the car lot, any place I could think of that would offer quick transport out of town.

By the time I got to the bus station, I had been doing far too much running. It was a miracle I could breathe at all.

At a distance I could see him in the line, waiting to get on.

"VASH!" I screamed, "WAIT!"

Everybody but Vash turned their head to see me running. What was he trying to do, ignore me? Bastard…

"DAMMIT VASH, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

He turned as I closed the last few yardz. He looked like he had just killed Christ.

I had planned to say, "I know about Wolfwood." in the most serious tone I could muster, but the sudden stop in all the running made me sputter and cough like a backfiring engine. I could barely get out: "Vash, I /-hack-/ I kn-/-cough cough cough-/ I know abou- /-HACKcoughcoughcoughHACK-/"

I sank down to my knees trying to catch my breath and a familiar hand helpfully slapped my back.

"You all right?" he asked, innocent as the day was long.

"Vash, don't go dammit! I'm sorry I couldn't say anything when you told me, I was just shocked. I don't think you're crazy or anything! Really! I don't want to make you leave town!"

"Nick, you aren't making me do anything. It's just… there's another reason why I have to leave."

"What other reason?"

His face became cold to me, his smile still hung there lifeless, frozen for posterity. "I can't tell you. You could get hurt if you knew too much."

"Don't I already know too much?"

"Maybe. But I'm not going to stick around just to add to it."

"I told you I want to know more! I want to. I mean it." I said, "Please?"

"…oh Nick…" He murmured, saddened beyond words. Kneeling down and pressing a cool hand to my cheek. "Nick."

He looked so beautiful in that one moment. Aside from Middy I hadn't been attracted to anyone fiercely, and had always assumed myself to be straight. But something about the way he touched my cheek violently and unexpectedly turned me on. I suddenly wanted to grab him and hold him down. Kiss him, hit him, break something, do whatever I had to just to make him stay, bystanders be damned.

And then it hit me that I hadn't even asked him yet.

"You're Vash the Stampede… aren't you?"

His face was still a pale mask, but the careful smile had finally slipped away.

"Look, if you aren't, then tell me you aren't."

"I can't do that." He said.

For a second I couldn't believe I had been right. "You're Vash the St-"

"I don't go by that name anymore." He said firmly, taking his hand away, "I can't. If I do, then I'm just living in the past. As much as I want my old life… my old friends to come back to life, I can't make them rise from the dead. I dragged you into all this, and for what? Because you remind me of someone who was important to me? You don't even know who the man I think you are was."

"Damn you, I would if you told me!" I said, angry.

"Then I'd be condemning you to live my past. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Maybe you were right about me… about how sometimes people… come back…"

"Nick, you shouldn't do this to yourse-"

"What if you were right?" I interrupted. I sounded frantic. "You don't know! What if that kind of stuff really does happen? If I am who you think I am, then it's my past too! I need to know!"

The driver gave last call.

He forced his mouth into that painful smile again and stood. "I think this is where we should say goodbye Brother Wolfe. You put yourself into other peoples situations so easily, even those that are none of your concern… it speaks of great compassion in you. I know you'll be a wonderful Father when the time comes."

Picking up his bag, he stepped onto the bus. The gears loudly and with a lurch the bus pulled out onto the road.

He was leaving.

Nothing I had said would change his mind.

Like hell.

The bus could only go 20 iles an hour in the city limits, so it was easy enough to catch up with. Vash's face appeared in the second to last window from the back. He saw me before I was able to reach up and knock.

I slapped the Xerox copy of the color picture against the window, running to keep pace with the bus. Vash's window rolled down from the top. He looked at me, honestly amazed.

"How can you tell me this is none of my concern!" I yelled.

He blinked.

"Well! Are you going to just leave, or are you going to at least tell me about him!"

I know I could have kept running long enough to hear an answer if I had seen that damn rock.

I should have counted my blessings that the bus didn't roll over me, but I would have felt better if it had. As I sat up, spitting out sand and gravel, I saw a pale blond head looking back at me as it disappeared into the distance.

Father Leon was surprisingly lenient when he found me sobbing in the dirt.

"I don't know what to say, Wolfe. You know the church has refused to take a position on reincarnation. You do have an extraordinary resemblance to this Wolfwood man, but he most certainly is not you. I'm afraid you must have been taken in by a con. At least you had the good fortune to appeal to his sense of humanity, before he gained whatever he was after." He frowned at me, "He didn't try to… touch you inappropriately, did he?"

_I won't do anything you don't want me to do._

"No father." I said. Vash the Stampede didn't lay a wrong finger on me. He couldn't have even if he had tried.

"Well then. Try to go on, and just chalk this up to one of life's hard lessons."

I had a lot of hard lessons to learn in the days that followed. Most of them involving the cleaning of antique marble floors. Father Leon had assured me total discretion in the whole embarrassing matter. Everyone knew in a matter of hours.

I had never been able to stomach pity.

But I won't be here for long. It might take a while, years even, but I'm going to find him. I don't mind waiting, now. Because now I know I've been waiting for much longer.

I will find Vash the Stampede.

**End of 'Coming Back'**

**Continued in 'Running Down'**


	4. Running Down: Chapter 1

Running Down

Thirteen months later, I had been sitting in the garden, minding my own business, when the Daniels boy arrived on the sand steamer.

His mother was the one who found me, approaching my sun-cracked bench, as she rung her hands.

"Father Wolfe?"

I gave her my best smile. "Ma'am?"

"Please, could you help me? It's… it's my sonny boy. He's been hurt again."

"What happened now?" I asked.

"Some sort of foolishness in May city. He pulled some stupid stunt in a tournament and got his arm tore up. Could you look at him, father? Father Leon swore he couldn't come."

"Course ma'am."

Sam was in the back of his father's beat-up pickup truck, with his right arm bound up like a mummy. I had never thought a face so young could be so ugly, but Sam had proved us all wrong on a great many predictions about his future. He sneered when he saw me slide into the passenger's seat.

"Thank you Father," his mom was saying, "He's not much, but he's the only one of my boys I've got left."

"Mom, what the hell are you doing?" Sam asked, "I told you to go get a doctor, not a priest! My arms hurting something bad, I need those fancy pills Doc Anderson gave me when I broke my leg!"

His mother smacked him upside the head with her purse, a large serious leather affair with lots of rivets, as she started the car. "You pipe down! If it weren't for you I wouldn't be wasting money to fix you up at all! And if you swear in front of the priest one more time, and I'll really give you something to cry about!"

"Owwiiee! Mom! Stop it!"

Sam was whining like a kicked puppy.

Or like an old friend.

Vash.

I never had stormed out of the school, bound and determined to walk the planet searching for him. I had never given into the desperation that had claimed me in the hours and days after he had left me. I had taken finals instead.

I kept telling myself that I could do it later, once all of my responsibilities were taken care of. Sure, part of me wanted to be out there. Take what money I had and buy a ticket to a city and start looking. Hell if I knew where and hell if I knew how. It still frightened me that I had become so taken with someone after such a short period of time. I wasn't sure how to get rid of it. He still haunted me after all this time.

And now I kept telling myself that after I finally went through with the ceremony, I would be all right. I would be safe. I didn't want anything or anyone like Vash to happen to me again.

The dreams had been less and less, but hadn't stopped again.

I kept thinking he would come back for me.

He had to, didn't he? I mean, I knew. Didn't that count for anything?

"Father?" Mrs. Daniels asked.

"Mmm? Sorry about that Ma'am. Kind of went off there for a second."

"It's all right. I was just wondering when you're taking your vows."

"It's planned for the 16th. Ten other brothers will be taking their vows with me."

"Really? Well, how nice that the church is expanding."

"Mo-om! You mean he's not a real priest!"

The handbag knocked him out with one swing. It made the rest of the trip to the Daniels ranch was quite pleasant.

Like his brothers, Sam had never been one to run from trouble. So over the years his mom had acquired quite the collection of first aid supplies. I accepted the offer of coffee, and could smell it brewing as I picked through her son's mangled shoulder. Nothing had been broken or fractured, but for a flesh wound it was pretty serious. Thankfully the wound had been well tended to early on, and had a chance of healing properly.

"Sam's got to watch this thing for a week or so." I told her, as she peeked over my shoulder. "He's got to keep his arm rested and the wound clean. You can use any one of the antiseptics you've got here to do the job. It should be fine, if he takes care of it."

"Thank you Father but…" she seemed embarrassed, "Could you bless the wound while you're here? Every little bit helps, especially when it comes to my sonny boy."

I blessed the water she brought me in the wash basin and splattered it against the tightly wound linen. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

"It stings!" Sam whimpered. His mom's handbag impacted with his skull again.

"You must have been shot down by the devil himself, then." I said, as I took the coffee his mom offered.

"Father, even I know no demon's going to take the time to shoot my son. It would be a waste of bullets."

"You don't know that momma! You should have seen the guy who shot me! Anyone of those gunmen could have been the Devil himself!"

"You shouldn't have gotten involved in a professional gunfight in the first place! The fact that those men are still alive speaks of the fact that they're much better that you'll ever be!" he mom said, turning red.

"How exactly did you get shot?" I asked, "I know you're not much of a fighter, but I would have thought you had gotten real good at running away by now."

"Well… you see, when the tournament was about to end, there was just two guys left to complete for the grand prize. But one guy got mad that the other guy was beating him, and it got real ugly. So I thought that no one would notice if I grabbed the prize money…"

"You didn't think someone would see you taking $$200,000!" he mom asked, handbag ready to swing.

"Mom! I wouldn't have tried if I thought I would have gotten caught! There were buildings getting blown up all around me! People were running for their lives!"

"So, what happened then?" I interrupted.

"Well, the angry guy musta noticed the money was gone, because he started coming after me. He got me into a dead end, but he only got my arm. Then there was a lot of gunfire all over the place, and when it stopped the other guy was asking if I was OK and stuff. He got me to a doctor, and then he put me on the sand steamer."

"How kind of him," his mom said, "and after all the trouble you caused."

"Kind? What are you talking about? He stole the prize money from me!"

The handbag appeared again, this time embedded in his skull. "That money wasn't yours to begin with! What kind of son did I raise?"

I began to sense it was time to make my dramatic exit. "Ma'am, it's getting late. Could I trouble you for a ride back to town?"

"Hmm?" she asked, mid-throttle, "Oh, of course father. Just let me get my keys."

Sam pouted as he sat up on the couch. "Kindness my ass." He muttered. "The guy was just mental. Who would go around calling himself Vash the Stampede, anyway?"

What?

"What did you say?" I didn't mean to raise my voice, but I hoped I sounded more angry than desperate.

"Gah!" Sam said, suddenly shy and sheepish, "I'm sorry father! Really, I am! I didn't mean to swear in front of you!"

"Never mind that! Why did this guy call himself Vash the Stampede?"

"I don't know… what, did you think I would ask him?"

I took a deep breath. Lord give me strength. "What did he look like?"

"I dunno… he was just some guy. As tall as you are with weird hair."

"What kind of weird hair? What was he wearing?" Now desperation was creeping into my voice. Lord give me fortitude, so that I don't start bawling in front of this dumb punk.

"He was just a blonde guy in a red coat! What else do you want from me?"

Oh god… it could be. No. The chances were astronomical. "Did he have green eyes?"

Sam was giving me an odd look. "…Yeah. I think so. He was wearing sunglasses, so I ain't sure…"

"Orange sunglasses?"

Sam was interested now. "Hey, yeah! What, do you know the guy?"

I pushed him away, and stood up. Christ, this wasn't happening. It couldn't be him. Not after all these months. But to know he's in someplace as far away as May city…

"When did you leave May city?" I asked.

"Leave May…?"

"I'm asking when you last saw him!" Fuck, I was shouting again.

"Geez, Father… he took me to the sand steamer depot when my ship left three days ago. He even helped me get the tickets."

He could still be there… he could still be there! Oh God, what was I supposed to do?

"So, he knew you were from December?" Did he say anything about me?

"Well, yeah." Sam rolled his eyes as if he was stating the obvious, "He said this was a nice town, and that we had a real nice church."

A nice church? All he could say was that we had a nice CHURCH?

"Father?" Mrs. Daniels was standing in the hallway, looking worried. "Is there something wrong Father?"

* * *

"No, we don't have anyone by the name of Ericks here. Sorry, sonny." An innkeeper told me, and the receiver clicked off. I went to the next name on my list.

May city had quite a few hotel chains. Luckily for me, almost all of them had phone numbers.

"We had an Erickson, but he's been gone for over a month." Another dial tone.

I shouldn't be doing this on a church phone without permission. Hell, I shouldn't be doing this! What could I have said if I found him?

"Black Cat Inn! Are you calling to make a reservation?" the man on the other end was shouting over the obvious party that was going on behind him.

"No, I'm looking to see if you have some one in your registry." I tried to keep my voice down, but it wasn't working.

"What?"

"I'M LOOKING FOR SOMEONE!" …oh hell.

"Oh! Right! Wait a second!" the phone clattered as it was put down. There was a chorus of loud drinking songs going on in the background. I thought I could pick out the chords of Colonist folk song 'Louie, Louie' among it all.

"All right son, who you looking for?"

"Ericks."

"Who now?"

"ERICKS."

"All right, I'll look."

"Something going on?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"PARTY?" Dammit, I was going to get caught, this was it, fuck me, fuck me…

"Oh that! We're just throwing a little party for the man who saved the quick draw tournament!"

"REALLY?"

"Oh yeah!" he said, "The Humanoid Typhoon himself! At least that's what he's been answering to. I'm ready to believe it myself, after the way he helped us all! I'm just glad he's staying at my place! The bar's been packed for days!" his mouth pulled away from the phone, and he yelled something I couldn't make out into the noise.

The maniacal laugher that answered back I could have recognized in my sleep.

Oh God. Oh God, Oh God, Oh FUCK! He was in May city. May, over a thousand iles away. Dammit Vash, how could I get to you now?

"I'm sorry to tell you this sonny, but we don't have an Ericks here!"

"S'allright." I told him, "Goodbye."

"Wha-" he was interrupted as the phone slide back into the receiver.

My shaking hands clamped tightly over my eyes. I wasn't going to get back to my room like this. I was already crying. I cried too much. I couldn't leave, I couldn't make it to May, not with my vows coming up. It was all a lost cause.

Sweet Heavenly Father, have mercy on my soul.

* * *

"I only wanted to talk to you about the request for a leave of absence you filed yesterday." The Father told me, when I arrived in his office. "I've come to expect nothing but impulse from you Wolfe, but even this is a little sudden."

"I thought it was my responsibility to inform the parish if I needed any time off. I know from previous experience that just taking off is not looked on well." I was irritated, and not just by the oncoming lecture. I had been counting up my money when Father Leon summoned me. I only had $$400 in savings. It would barely buy a 5th class bunk on a Tinkerbelle class steamer to May. And that was one way. I knew I would have to sneak on board, and I was trying to remember if I still knew how to do it.

"No, it's not. And I'm glad some of what we've been trying to teach you has been sinking in." Father Leon clasped his hands as he leaned forward over his desk, "But there are many different kinds of impulse Wolfe, and I'm wondering if this is just a redirection of your wandering natures."

I wasn't sure what he had meant by that, but I didn't like the way he said it. "Sir?"

"There are many different kinds of Priests, Wolfe. Some of us find their calling in wandering the sands, trying to sooth the unfortunate and convert those who need a path to follow. But even these priests must know the true nature of the church. A stable center is essential even in the most rootless parish. And while I can see your will and drive is impressive, even I do not see your spirit as a haven of calm repose."

"Forgive me father… I had thought I was improving."

"Oh you are in your own fashion. I have no doubt that you will take up the cross with vehemence one day. But you should not let the energy that fuels you turn to poorly controlled anger. The rumors of a misguided child should not stir you to violence, as I hear they have."

So he had heard about my talk with the Daniels boy. "I lost my temper with Sam, sir, but I certainly did not hurt him. I went with his mother only to help him."

"A priest cannot loose his temper at any time. He must be a source of calm. I have told you as much many, many times before." He sighed. "I can only hope that whatever business you must attend to will bring some peace to your troubled soul. You have been granted leave after the service today is done, and you will return in a week hence."

I couldn't even drive to New Augusta and back in a week. "Thank you father," I intoned, bowing my head in mock reverence to hide my frustration

* * *

Four days into my traveling and I was starting to consider that Father Leon and all of my teachers had been right when they said I was too impulsive.

I had taken off as soon as the service ended, the last sand steamer of the day left just minutes after, and I had been lucky enough to sneak aboard. I hadn't eaten since I had left; I had forgotten to pack anything of importance, like water or a map. And here I was, still more than a hundred iles from May, trying to hitchhike down a road that seemed to be free of travelers. In my cossack cloak.

The things were overheated as hell, and getting dirtier by the second. I should have stuffed them in my luggage, such as it was. But they had helped when I had been found in the sand steamer and when an argument in a bar almost got ugly. I could survive on a perception of humanity as long as I could.

What was I doing out here? Vash was probably already gone by now. I needed to be back in December in 3 days.

I was so tired and I hadn't really slept since I left. Until now I'd been too excited, too nervous. Wanted to make sure I could decide on a seconds notice.

"Mister! Hey, Mister!"

And now I was hearing voices. Perfect. … Wait a minute…

The man in the car behind me was about 40, tan to his bones with kind eyes set in a face like a balding vulture. "Do you need some help?"

"Yes!" I jumped on the car hood like a fat man on a salmon sandwich, "Please, can you help me? I need to get to May city as quickly as I can, I…"

"Woah, Padre. May's been hit with some sort of bomb. The city was evacuated over an hour ago."

"What?"

"Yeah, no one's really sure what happened, but people left and fast. The place has been barricaded on all five roads, no one's going in. There are even rumors about Vash the Stampede, if you can believe that. You'd have to be crazy to even try and get in there now."

"But I've traveled from December," I told him, "I'm trying to meet up with a friend of mine in the city. If it's being destroyed, I'm just as worried as I was before!" Especially since, if the legends really are true, he's probably caused most of the damage himself.

"Look Father, I just don't want to get into any trouble…"

"I'm not asking for you to get involved, but if you could get me as close to the city as you can, I'll get out and walk the rest of the way if I have to…I just need to see if…" The well timed coughing fit I had wasn't forced. Dammit, this wretched planet was dry.

"All right Father, it's your funeral. Get in."

* * *

He got me within a mile of the city. There were loud explosions that I could hear even from this distance, and a column of black smoke reaching up into the sky. I could see many of the buildings were still standing, but the smoke had covered a lot of the town.

Why was I suddenly so sure he was still in there?

I took one last swing of water from my Samaritans canteen, and threw my bag over my shoulder as I got out of the car. Hell. This wasn't going to be easy.

"You still going in?" the guy asked. "You're either brave or crazy Father."

"From where I'm standing, I think I'm just crazy." I gave him a friendly smile. "Thanks again for all your help. May you go with God, my son."

"Wait." The guy reached behind him, metal clashing together. "Take this. It's an old piece but it's better than nothing."

The gun shone with an oily brilliance.

"Thanks, but I wouldn't know what to do with the damn thing."

"Then take it to ease my mind. I won't have it on my conscious that I sent a Man of God into that without a shred of protection."

He did have the point. I carefully pushed the gun deep into my bag.

"Good luck father." The man said, starting the engine, "You're going to need it."

Next Chapter: Medium Well Done


	5. Running Down: Chapter 2

Yup. I'm back.

I appologize for the massive time lapse. Once again I've gotten too involved in other projects (Three Part Harmony at "melvinawright (dot) deviantart (dot) com" for one...) and things kind of lagged.

But after recieving a recent review, I logged back into and realized how dire the need to finish this is.

BTW, a very belated thanks to: Arigatomina, Closet-Monster, dk-joy, Ed Chandor, Kira666, La Rhapsodia, Ookami Jinx, Rhosyn Du, Sockpuppet-of-love, tatsumaki, the way out is, Titan of Saturn AND Tongari0104721... not to mention everyone who has read the fic so far, and all the lovely reviewers.

/-Lio pauses for a moment, gasping for air-/

OK, so here's how things are going to work.

'Running Down' has one more chapter after this. That chapter will be posted next Tuesday, March 14th. The next volume is 'Seeking Felicity', and the first chapter from that will be posted the 21st. The rest of the series will be finished in the same way.

Come back. Tell a friend.

And keep faving and commenting, my heart soars everytime you do.

And without further ado...

* * *

I heard shouting behind me, as I marched past the blockade, which was just a ring of parked cars loosely surrounding the city, but I paid them no mind, walking like a man on a mission. I knew no one in their right mind was going to come in after me. 

No one in their right mind.

As I got into the city, it was as quiet as a grave. Market stalls were still set up for business, the doors to the banks and businesses and buildings were still wide open. Car doors were open, People had certainly left in a hurry.

Smoke and Debris hung increasingly heavy in the air as I kept going. Out of necessity, I removed my collar to use as a crude mask. My eyes burned with my lungs, but I kept going. I had set out to come here and I swore I was going to finish it.

First things first. Find out where Vash went. He had been staying at an inn in town, so if it was still standing, that would be the best place to find clues as to where he had gone, right? Unfortunately, it wasn't like I could ask one of the locals, was it? Well, the phone booths were still standing, maybe I could get an address out of a phone book. I made my way over to a nearby booth. Now what was the name of the place? Kuroneko?

Something large smashed the phone booth I was inches away from, throwing it several yards away from me. Even through the smoke I could see it was a sign. A metal sign. The Black Cat Inn.

Yeah, that was it.

Well, fuck that theory straight to hell.

I heard something coming at me, screaming like an electric drill. I expected to see some sort of flying smart bomb headed for me. Instead I saw, faintly in the dusty artificial twilight, a blob of yellow and dark red as it flew past me, squealing like a little girl.

"Is that…" I muttered.

I don't know how he could have heard me, the way he was running, but peeking over his shoulders, his eyes bugged out to inhuman proportions, and he slammed his feet into the ground so hard, he made skid marks deep enough to be a kiddy pool.

"NICK!" he screamed, "What are you doing here?"

Even with my heart spinning, warm and happy in my chest, I wasn't going to let an insult slide. "What do you MEAN what am I doing here? YOU'RE the one who's destroying the…"

The overpowering groan of metal being torn apart by metal, made me slowly look over my shoulder. An enormous leg, six stories high appeared in sight poking out of the cloud of debris. The sound it made, as the metal foot landed on the ground felt like an earthquake.

Oh shit…

"GAHH!" I ran towards Vash, then past him, hearing and feeling the metal and moving earth coming up on me. "MONSTER!"

"What are you DOING here?" He had caught up with me easily, and I was starting to see him more clearly as we got away from the center of the town.

"Never mind that! What the hell is that thing?"

He grabbed me by the arm, forcing us both down a series of dark alleyways. "Two Tons the Lawless. He's a local gangster... GAH!" this after barely dodging a falling piece of masonry, "I beat him in the local quick draw tournament they have here, so he's kind of upset."

"You THINK?" I asked, jumping over a tipped trashcan, "What is he trying to do, kill you?"

He managed to looked sheepish, his hand finding the back of his neck even when he was running, "Well, that usually is the way these things work…"

"You're serious? Over a tournament! What is with that guy?"

Vash looked at me like I was a moron. "You've lead a pretty sheltered life, haven't you? Guys of this kind always want payback if they think you've taken something away from their tough guy image, it just comes with the territory!"

"How would you know? How long have you been living like this?"

"As long as I can remember. Vash the Stampede, remember? … hmm…" He led me down one more alleyway and forced us both to a stop. I tried to catch my breath, my sides were pounding and my lungs were about to explode.

He had a point. The legends of Vash the Stampede when back as far as colonist times. Even if he had been born with a gun in his hand, it still made him centuries old. Had people always been like this to him? And I thought the monotony of the church was starting to get to me. There was no way this guy was ever going to escape being chased down. Poor bastard.

"You got a plan… to get out of this?" I gasped.

"Not really. I was planning on waiting until he wore himself down. But he's been destroying so many buildings; I'm going to have to find a way to stop him soon."

"Bring down a guy that size yourself?"

He smiled, "Well, there's no harm it trying."

"Didn't just letting the guy win enter your empty skull during the tournament?"

"He wasn't this big at the tournament. He's wearing a suit of arms and legs. If I can find how to take out his power source for the suit he'll be helpless."

The sound of pounding and screeching metal was coming closer.

"This would be a lot easier if I just had a gun." He said, quietly listening, "I'm starting to think I really shouldn't have put my old one down."

"What, you need a gun? Here." Pinching it by the handle, I pulled the gun from my bag.

As he took it, he seemed surprised. "Where did you get this?"

"Don't ask. It's loaded at least, isn't it?"

He kept looking at me, but finally checked and nodded.

"We can count that as a blessing, then. Anything else?"

He was still looking at me, still trying to see something in me that I didn't know if I had. But he finally smiled, "We're going to need a decoy. If he gets drawn out where we can actually see him, we could get a clean shot."

"All right then, I'm your man." Zipping it closed, I slung the strap of my bag across my chest, so I could run with it.

Vash looked shocked. "I meant me!" he protested.

"What am I going to do, shoot him? I've never fired a gun in my life! Why is everyone I meet lately giving me guns? I'm a priest for crying out loud! Doesn't that mean anything to anyone anymore?"

"Oh… Sorry. I guess I just… forgot there for a second."

A huge footstep slammed down close by, too close for comfort. We started running together.

"Where am I going?"

"He's on the Main road right now. As soon as you get his attention, just start running towards the light. Try not to go out of the city walls."

"But you'll get him before I reach them, right?"

"I'm going to try." Vash said.

"If that isn't a confidence builder, I don't know what is."

"You're the one whose trade is faith."

I heard a foot slam into the ground yards away and I tensed, getting ready to run. I felt Vash tense beside me. "God helps those who help themselves." I whispered to no one.

The next foot fell. "GO!"

The light was straight ahead of me, the darkness behind. I ran like a man possessed. Behind me I heard the earth shattering footsteps speed up, chasing me. C'mon Vash, shoot already. I started coughing and sputtering as I hit mostly clean air again, my feet tripping as I tried to breathe normally again.

The first gun shot sounded like a hallelujah, even if the chorus that followed it was the sound of metal ricocheting off metal. The second bullet seemed to find mark in something, but the footsteps still kept coming. Dammit Vash! Take the guy down, aim for the head, something. I'm running out of street!

I had too much faith in Vash. I must have. It's the only explanation for why I turned around to see if Two Tons was still following me. I briefly saw the huge gauntlet of a fist headed for me before night came suddenly and hard.

As I woke up, I realized I was having trouble breathing. The dust, I thought, and then I realized that wasn't the whole of it. I was lying on something. Bent metal.

Vash was screaming.

No. Don't pass out again. Open your eyes. C'mon.

My neck hurt like hell. My back hurt like hell. Everything hurt like hell.

There was glass everywhere.

Get up a little more, a little more. Sit up. That's it.

Damn.

I was lying in the center of a crater where the windshield of a nice new automobile. Well, formerly nice and formerly new. I was lying in a human-sized crater in the middle of it all. The gangster had thrown me into a car.

And I was still alive. It was the closest I had come to a miracle.

I slid off the car's hood and amazed myself by still being able to walk, although hardly with the same ease and enjoyment that I had before. But I wasn't paralyzed, always good. Unbuttoning my priests cloak helped me to breath a bit better.

A familiar scream came from behind the cloud of smoke.

Vash and Two-Tons were on the other side of the town.

He had led him away from me…

Heavenly Father, how was I supposed to get that lunkhead out of this situation? It wasn't like I could just walk into the devils mouth like this.

…but…

But I could always drive…

The years of hotwiring cars before the priesthood came back to me as easily as riding a bike. I got the fastest car I could find and drove into the abyss. It took me longer to find him than I expected, even with the way he was screaming nonstop.

Like a little girl. Moron.

The black smoke did nothing to help my lungs. I was loosing it fast. If I couldn't find him in a few more minutes, we were both dead.

And suddenly there he was, skidding to a stop in front of my headlights. I laid on the horn.

He turned around completely surprised.

Another long blast and he was in the car, fastening his seatbelt.

"Did you… get him?" I asked between hacking coughs, making the U-turn and peeling rubber. There was the sound of heavy footsteps behind us.

"Not yet, but he's not going to last much longer." I felt a concerned hand on my back, warm in more ways than one. "Are you all right?"

I wanted to fall asleep then. It would have felt wonderfully right. Those warm hands, concerned and gentle, wrapped around my aching back, stroking my weeping body back to health. It was all an illusion, though, and one that would send us both into the side of a building if I wasn't careful. "I'm fine!" I spluttered, trying to push him away.

Light was coming back onto the road, and I could see the gates to the city coming up. I parked as carefully as the situation would allow. My adrenaline levels were starting to wane and the pain was ganging up on me fast. I had probably injured something vital. I leaned on the steering wheel, trying to hide the pain. "Can you see him? Is he still coming?"

"Nick, you're hurt."

I would have shaken my head if my damn neck didn't hurt so much.

"Nick, listen to me. Drive out to the blockade. I'm sure there a doctor out there-"

"I'm not going!" Dammit, even my voice box hurt.

The slow thud of the monster boot hit the ground near us. The car shook violently.

"You're going to get yourself killed! Don't you understand that?"

There was a sound like a great foot being dragged and another stomp.

"It took me months to find you. If I leave now I'll never see you again."

Stomp.

"At least you'll be alive!"

The smile came easy, "C'mon Vash. Don't you think I have faith in you? I know you've gotten out of worse situations than this. Just go out there, do the hero thing and bring him down. Then you and I can get to a doctor, together, to see if there's any hope for me."

Drag, Stomp.

"Nick, I've only got one bullet left. If I miss I don't want you to see what I'm going to have to do."

"Well, good thing for me you've got that bullet."

STOMP. Two Tons screamed like a demon as he came to a stop yardz behind the car.

"Now could you go take care of him?" I asked, "He's really starting to give me a headache."

The smile he gave me was a nervous one, but he got out of the car, and moved around to behind the back bumper, facing the gangster.

Thankfully alone, I let myself slump over onto the steering wheel. My hand was shaking as I adjusted the rearview mirror to see what was going on.

Vash mentioned that here they were again, and asked if he still thought this could be a fair challenge. Two Tons gave an answer that was long, insulting and used the phrase 'Vash the Stampede' over nine times. In two minutes. If blinking hadn't hurt, I would have gone out there and shot him myself.

There was long and strange silence when Two tons finally shut up. Then, a volley of machine gun fire screamed through the air. Bullets landed everywhere, shattering the back window, taking chunks out the car left and right. I felt myself get grazed a handful of times, but no new galaxies of pain had erupted on my body so I guessed I was OK. A bullet hole took out the left corner of the rearview, but I could still see most of it. Vash hadn't moved.

Vash said something.

The giant paused, as if trying to figure out if he had really said what he think he had. Then he started laughing. Hard and long. Vash didn't move. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to.

And then the giant began to charge.

All I could do was stare at the reflection in the spider-webbed mirror, angry and scared. Run Vash. Get out of here. I'm dead anyway, leave me! Run, save yourself! Don't just let him kill you!

If I hadn't been staring so hard, I wouldn't have seen it.

Vash fired.

There was a burst of neon light, a sound akin to a car skidding over and over again, and finally, and earth shattering thud as a very large, very unconscious body hit the dirt.

As the dust cleared, I saw Vash. Standing there. Unharmed.

Praise God. Oh praise god.

I closed my eyes for a second, and suddenly someone was slapping my face. "Nick! Nick, please speak to me!"

He looked heroic. He looked beautiful. He looked scared too, but hell if I knew why. We had won, hadn't we? "Hey. Nice job."

"Yeah… yeah, guess so."

"Mmm." I tried to get a hold of the front of his jacket, but my fingers kept slipping. I wasn't going to hold out much longer, I was loosing it. But, oh… what a way to go... "I'll be right back, OK? Don't go anywhere without me." he grabbed onto me as I fell, but darkness was very insistent, and very soothing.

I woke up in a bright, white room, where the pain was dull, but not gone, and I was alone.

Dammit, I had told him not to leave…

"Father Wolfe?" the voice was mature and held a great sense of humor, along with a familiarity to respect.

"Mmm?" I asked.

The bed started moving until I was sitting up. A pretty young nurse with short brown hair, and a grey-haired man who looked more than a little like a shaved monkey were smiling at me. "Well! You're finally awake, I see. How are we doing today?"

"Mmm." I pointed out.

"Still a little groggy, of course. Not surprising, though, considering what you've been through. We almost thought you wouldn't make it, to be quite honest. You were badly dehydrated on top of being seriously injured."

"How…" I tried to say. The pretty young nurse carefully gave me a sip of water. "How long have I…?"

"It's been about 12 days since you got here. We all heard about how you sustained your injuries from the young man who brought you in. I must say, it's a bit exciting to have a celebrity in our little clinic."

I tried to smile kindly and found it hurt on several levels. 12 days. I could almost smell the smoke from my bridges being burnt. There was no way I was going to complete any training for the priesthood now… "Celebrity?"

"The man who took down Two Tons! Don't be so modest!" he said.

"Oh… that." Almost slipped my mind. "It was nothing. Really."

"But it's helped the town so much! The freedom from his iron hand, the town cleared of buildings too worn down to use… we've been meaning to rebuild, but we've never had much incentive…"

"Good for you."

"Well, then, I had been hoping you wouldn't mind, seeing as we had to take our share out of the reward…"

"Share?" just keeping my eyes open was exhausting.

"Oh yes. Most of the repair costs, damage to the car you used, and your hospital bills, of course, just little things like that. Not a significant chunk out of the bounty, but…"

"Bounty?" I asked.

"The $$500,000 bounty that was posted! Wasn't that the reason you came when you heard the town was being destroyed?"

"Something like that…" Damn their stupid reward to hell. I came for Vash, I fought for Vash, what the fuck did I care about money for? And where was that lunkhead while I was lying here?

"Don't worry about a thing, though, you should still have some left. Our town's auditor estimates you should have at least $$10,000 by the time you're back on your feet."

"That sounds about right." I said. Dammit, I don't give a fuck. "Is he still around?"

"Who, Father Wolfe?" the young nurse asked.

"The guy who brought me in? Blonde guy, as tall as I am? Dark red coat?"

They looked at each other, nervous.

"What? Don't you remember him?"

"No," the doctor said, "No, I do believe I remember him. Yes, you're right. He was the one who brought you in. I remember that much."

That didn't sound good. "Well, is he around?"

"He might be. Why?"

"Because, he's an old friend of mine, I'd like to talk to him."

"Well, visiting hours aren't for a while yet. Perhaps he'll come in when those start." He looked at the nurse, and she began busying herself on a nearby table.

"Are you sure you can't pull a few strings? You said yourself I'm the man of the hour." I was trying to look charming, and I was sure I was failing fast.

"I'll see what I can do. But I shouldn't tire you out like this. You still have a lot of recovering to do! You just take it easy, and if he comes in, we'll be sure to wake you up."

"Wake me up?" I asked, like a moron. The pinprick made itself felt immediately, and the blackness came back, happily flooding into me.

I woke up now and then after that. Each time it was a different time of day or night. The pretty nurse fed me sometimes, and always gave me a drink of water. The needle came again and again and after a while I began to worry if the stuff was addictive.

And then I woke up one night, and Vash was sitting next to me in one of the hospital chairs.

I found I could move enough to hug him, and I was delighted. "Where the hell have you been, you idiot?"

He spoke quietly, like he was afraid of waking someone up. "Sorry, I've been busy."

"You bastard," I said, holding him tighter and tighter.

"I missed you too Nick."

I was getting annoyed that he wasn't hugging me back. I didn't know why until I looked down.

".. I thought something was wrong with this picture."

"One of the worst parts about being Vash the Stampede is that people find out. And when they find out, they usually panic." Even the jingle the handcuffs made was sheepish.

"Maybe if you hadn't registered as the Stampede, this wouldn't have happened."

"I'll remember that for next time." He said.

"Just how often does this kind of thing happen?"

"More often than you'd think."

"You poor bastard."

"Maybe. But what else am I going to do? Stop living?" he looked at his boots. "That's just not an option for me."

The kiss was easy, even if I couldn't find his lips in the dark.

He pulled away as I leaned in again. "Nick, that vow of celibacy you took should make you think twice about groping handcuffed outlaws in strange hospitals."

"You must be talking about…" I looked up at the clock, "…the vow I should have been taking right now, aren't you?"

"You… haven't completed your training for the priesthood?" He seemed… scared.

"Not yet, no."

"Why not?"

"Because it was a choice of staying with the parish, or going on a wild goose chase after you." I said, "And here I am."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"That's what I kept telling myself the whole way here. But as soon as I arrived, I knew it was the right thing. Actually, I had more fun than I should admit to."

His smile was infectious. I put a hand behind his head to pull him towards me, but he refused to go anywhere. "They're watching."

"Do you think I care?"

"Just hold on for a while, OK? I don't want you having to answer any weird questions."

"Hey, if that's a promise you'll keep when we get out of here, the wait will be worth it."

"Huh?"

"I am going to be leaving here with you, right?"

"I'm kinda still working on that…"

"What!" I shouted, "Don't tell me you're going to ditch me again!"

"Hey, keep it down, will you! They'll send me back early if they think I'm getting you riled up." He said mournful chibi face perfectly in place.

I heard myself growl as I sat back on the bed, "I'm never going to understand what's going on in that empty noggin of yours… telling me now that you're still working on it…" I was going to keep going but I realized his face had gone completely white. "…wha?"

"Nothing…it sounded like you said something else…"

"What do you think I said, exactly?"

He held up his cuffed hands defensively. "Nothing bad, promise! I just… forgot."

"I notice you've been forgetting a lot lately."

"Huh?"

"Just before I ran out to distract Two Tons… you said you forgot for a second. What do you keep forgetting?"

He looked down at his boots. "You'll think I'm insulting you. I'm not, really."

"You don't know until you ask, do you?"

He bit his lip, something that I had thought incredibly contrived until this very moment. "You keep reminding me of him…."

"Wolfwood?"

"Yeah…" the smile was a wistful one. "You can't even begin to know how much."

"What was he like?" I asked, adding, "Besides handsome as hell, I mean."

"You've already got a lot on your mind, I don't want to add to it."

Shrugging, I leaned back on the bed. The sheets were itchy, and the ceiling was cracked. Wonder why I hadn't noticed it before. "All right. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't want to talk about it."

He closed his eyes, as if lifting an impossibly heavy weight. "I met him years ago, on a bus that was coming here. His bike had broken down, and he was passed out, dehydrated. I was the first one to see him, and the bus went out of its way to pick him up. By the time we had stopped for a break, I had felt like I had known him all my life…"

And then, just like well rehearsed villains, the cops came back to collect him.

Vash had told me that he'd see me later, and I got angry, I remember that much. There was a fist and the needle again, and then I didn't remember much at all.

Next: Playing Doctor the HARD way.


	6. Running Down: Chapter 3

The next time consciousness and I were on speaking terms, there was a lot of yelling.

"Where did he go?" the doctor, the nurse, an obvious politician and the Police Chief all asked me in turn. A lot of yelling. I thought about punching people, but I reminded myself that I wasn't in the best of health, and that there were a lot of them besides.

"Please, Father. We need to find out where he went to." The young nurse said, as words besides the repeated phrase started blooming in my ears. "Did he tell you where he was going?"

"No…" I said around rubbery lips, "He didn't tell me a Goddamn thing."

"I told you." The police captain's voice said, "Useless. Even if he wasn't drugged to the gills."

"I'm sure we could get something out, if you just gave us some more time with him." That was the Doctor.

"Don't waste your time, Doc. So long as the Stampede doesn't come back, I don't see a reason to go chasing after him."

Everyone suddenly left after that. It seemed like something important had just happened, so I let myself wake up. After I had finally struggled my way back into full consciousness, I realized what it meant. Vash had escaped. Without me. I bit into my thumb, one of the few uninjured parts of my body, to keep myself from crying.

The needle didn't come back after that. I supposed they thought they were punishing me, and in the end they did. As the remaining pain came back, in full force for the first time in what I guessed were days, I began to miss that little nothingness desperately.

They considered me well enough to leave the hospital three days later. I didn't exactly agree with the decision, but I wasn't consulted. I was given some pills, and told never to come back. I did have the bounty money left, a so I got myself a used car. Wasn't the best car on the lot, but it one I could easily afford and the dealer even threw in a full tank of gas. He knew I had to get out of town fast. Everyone did.

The aching of my body wouldn't have been so bad if I had been with him. Or at the very least knew where he was. I thought I had been glad to give up the priesthood when he had been sitting at my bedside, but what had it gotten me? I was never going to find him again. Coincidence, I could believe, but miracles didn't happen, at least not to me.

I was an ile or two out of the town, when I pulled the car off the road and put it in park.

Where exactly was I going?

No, really. Where was I going?

December was firmly out of my grasp, and May was behind me. Vash had been right. I really was sheltered. I had no idea where the nearest town was. How was I supposed to make it out here on my own? What could I possibly do to earn a living?

I fumbled in my bag and finding a pack of smokes and my lighter, I began to think. Perhaps think was too strong a word. Panic with discretion seemed more appropriate. After my first smoke burned down, I used it to light my next one and kept thinking.

Nothing.

Running out of options, I decided to try the only thing I was trained for. I leaned on the wheel, careful to avoid the horn, and clasped my hands. Prayed.

Heavenly Father, grant me with the insight of direction. Let me find safe harbor for the night. Let me find Vash so that I can tell him whatever I need to tell him.

And failing that let me find him anyway so I can punch him in the face.

Hard.

Asshole.

Amen.

"Father Wolfe?"

I hadn't heard the car stop, and as soon as I heard a human voice, I figured I was in for a beating. But I was surprised to see the little nurse from the hospital walking towards me.

"Well, hello there pretty lady." I said. Then blinked at myself. Pretty lady?

"Hello Father. I'm surprised you're still here."

"I'm not really. I just had to find someplace quiet." I pulled out another cig and focused on meeting it with my lighter's flame, "Preferably with a smoking section."

She smiled, but she seemed nervous, "Where are you going, Father?"

"Not sure. I'm afraid I don't really know the area. Any suggestions?"

"Well Father, Augusta's on the eastern road, and New Oregon is far to the south. And if you want to make the long trip, July is to the Northwest, but it's at least a few days drive from here."

"What's the nearest place where I could get a bed for the night?"

"There's a town called Despair on the Southwest road. You could get there in an hour or so. But…"

"But what?" I asked as the smoke raked through my lungs.

"… well… If I were you, I'd go to Augusta."

"Why's that? They got better hotels?"

"Well, yes. But, well… it's really nice there this time of year."

"You've been there before?" I asked.

"No, but your blond friend said that he liked it."

What? "Did he now? When did he say that?"

"When the police were getting ready to take him back. We were alone for a minute, and he smiled at me, started talking. Said our little town was so nice this time of year, but he knew that Augusta was much better…"

He was in Augusta? No, it wasn't certain… but he COULD be in Augusta. "Strange, you wouldn't go to the police with that."

"No, I wouldn't. She seemed defiant, "I don't think he deserved it. Any of it."

Then he was in Augusta.

I leaned forward, and gave the girl a chaste peck on her cheek. When I pulled back, she was blushing, but oddly enough, I wasn't as annoyed at myself as I could have been. "So… how do I get on the Eastern road?"

* * *

He had been in Augusta. And he had been in Little Jersey. And he had been in the little town of Hope, where the withered innkeeper remembered him solely because he had been the only one to stay there in days. The innkeeper saw I was a fairly desperate man and for $$20 he was nice enough to let me search through what was left in the room. 

Why was Vash moving so fast? Was he running from me?

There was a number for a men's tailoring shop in LR town, only an hour from here. And it was on the road the innkeeper said he had left on. I refueled at the local station and took a chance.

I had been taking a lot of those lately. Chancing that he could be going somewhere, and following my gut without questioning it. It had always been right. It was starting to scare me. Why did I keep getting everything right? Why was it so easy to track him?

The last hotel I checked out in LR town was the only one with rooms still available. Tired, and running out of options, I took the innkeeper up on his sales pitch. I dutifully signed the paper work as 'Wolfwood' and paid for in cash. My room was cleaner than most places I'd been lately, and the big heavy ashtray looked like it had been designed by someone who actually smoked.

After trying to fall asleep for a few minutes, I realized, somewhat uneasily, that I really wanted was a drink.

I had only tasted alcohol twice in my life, both times on a bet, and it had never appealed to me. At the time, I had thought it was another sign that I was hell-bound to go into the priesthood. Even now, there was no reason for it. I wasn't depressed, I wasn't anxious, I just wanted booze.

And not just any booze. Bourbon. Why?

And then again, why not? The way Vash had drunk before it might be a good idea to check out the bars and liquor stores. And no one was going to recognize me as a priest here.

No Nick. Not a priest anymore.

Fuck, I really did need a drink when I remembered that.

The hotel bar only served beer and whiskey, but they directed me to a liquor store. The name of the bourbon I gave the clerk I had never heard before in my life. It sprouted from my mouth like I was speaking in tongues. And they had it. Pricey, but it wasn't breaking the bank. The guy actually complimented me as I was paying for it.

I had asked both guys about Vash and gave them a description of what he looked like, but no one had seen him.

As I got back to the hotel I pulled out the bottle and looked at it. The design of the label, the cut of the bottle, none of it looked familiar, but I remembered it by name.

I thought about taking an experimental swig, but it was better when you drank from a glass, on the rocks.

Fuck, I had to stop that.

The glasses I had found were clean, and it took a $$1.50 in change to free enough ice from the icemaker. The bourbon tasted like liquid incense. Good stuff. I would have to get it again, if I remembered.

And I couldn't even drink the entire thing before I passed out.

… I told Vash he was a lightweight.

* * *

The massive hangover that was playing a steel drum band on my skull cavity was blanketing. The sunlight streaming in through the window made it impossible to not get up. 

When I did, carefully shielding my eyes, I realized it was too quiet. No one was below on the street. I waited, but no one knocked on the door. Taking a peek out into the hallway I realized there was no one in it.

Clutching my head, I left the room and made my way to the lobby. The only people there were a desk clerk and an older man, cleaning and loading a shotgun.

"Hey, do you guys sell aspirin?"

"Aspirin? Why are you fooling around with aspirin?" the clerk asked.

"This headache ain't going away all by itself."

"Screw the headache kid," the old codger said, "We'll all be dead soon, and you won't have to worry a lick about if your head hurts."

"Don't you know what's happening?" The clerk said, "People are disappearing! Half the town wasn't there when we woke up this morning. Most of those who were left have already started driving to September!"

"So, then, why are you guys still here?" I asked.

"There's a rumor that Vash the Stampede is here! Who knows what he'll do to this place if we just leave it be!"

"I'd start running for the hills if I were you, sonny. You don't look like the fighting type."

"That's a no on the aspirin, then…"

They both looked like they wanted to shoot me, but were debating about wasting bullets.

I walked away, heading to the bar in the very back of the hotel. If I couldn't get painkillers, I'd have to settle for a little hair of the dog.

You get rid of a hangover fast when someone's shooting at you.

I dodged and threw myself behind a card table, throwing it to the ground for extra protection. When the gunfire finally died I peeked up over the rim, carefully.

Vash, the only person in the room, had his face pressed into the bar, his left hand draped over a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. As he turned his head to look, a long line of drool, connecting him to the bar, ran down his face. His hair had been cut back a few inches so the Mohawk could stand on its own, and his coat fit better than it had in May.

"You boys keep it down back there!" The desk clerk bellowed.

"Pheh." He said, quickly putting the gun, MY gun no less, away. "S'only you."

I marched over to him, and punched the back of his head as hard as I could. "What do you MEAN it's only me!" I asked as he was lying in a newly formed crater on the bar, "Why is everyone trying to kill everyone else in this town? And where did all the rest of the people go!"

Vash pulled his head free, started to talk, and then made a face. "Wait... which questions do you want me to answer?"

"Start with the last one." I took the whiskey bottle from him and knocked back the last swallow.

"Hey! That was MINE!"

"Oh stop it. We're in a bar for Christ's sake!"

"Says you!" he said, trying to lick the bottom of his glass, "I was just sitting here minding my own business… and now you want me to answer questions? I'm practically sober!"

Jumping up on the counter, I reached and produced a fresh bottle. I uncorked it, and then paused before I poured. "The people?"

"They were… given orders. Telepathically. It's happened before, but I'm pretty sure this time they're alive." I poured about two fingers for him, and he knocked them back, fast.

"Then why are there still people here?" I asked

"He's not as strong as he used to be. That or he doesn't like looking into the minds of common drunks, now that he has to do it himself. Everyone who's still here was having a lot of fun one way or another last night."

"And who is He?"

Vash looked at his empty glass, and then looked at me, expectantly. I poured, he drank.

"My brother," he said.

"Your brother."

"Yes. I'm sorry. I should have come here sooner. If I hadn't stopped in May city, you wouldn't be here and I…"

My hand easily found his shoulder, and he stopped. Relaxed. My hand found its way into his hair, and he didn't seem to mind at all.

I scooted a bit closer to him, and his head found its way into my lap. I was startled at first, but as I began to calm down it felt good. Better than good. Natural. Normal. And he shivered in a way that was far from innocent as I started to play with the fine hairs against the back of his neck. A hand wrapped around my leg, just above the knee, and began to kneed. He knew what he was doing, electricity course through my body and collected in places I hadn't used in a long time. It took me a while before I was breathing normally again.

"I think you'd better come with me" he said.

* * *

My heart was trying to tear itself out of my chest as I closed and locked the door to my room.

"Vash… you'll go easy on me, right?" I turned around and saw him shoving fistfulls of clothes into my beat-up duffel bag.

"…What are you doing?"

"Getting you packed."

"What!"

"I need you to get out of town. It's going to be coming soon, and I want you to be on safe ground when it does."

"You're doing this again! Fuck Vash! "

He pointedly ignored me as he packed my suitcase.

And I pointedly grabbed him and kissed him as hard as I could. I tried hard to ignore that he wasn't kissing me back.

The way he pushed away pissed me off. "No. It's… not fair." He muttered.

"Vash." I whimpered.

"If you... and I… I'd just be thinking about him."

"I don't care," I told him.

"You're only saying that now."

"I said, I don't care!" I clutched at my head. The hangover was coming back like gangbusters, "Jesus. Don't make me beg."

He was backing away to the door.

"Fine. Go fuck yourself." I leaned back against the wall and looked away.

He stopped, and looked back at me.

We tackled each other as we met halfway.

God, it felt good to have someone kiss you back.

His hands found the back of my head, kissing me and pressing against me with equal fire.

Oh, that one moment almost made up for everything.

I wanted to start crying in relief, I wanted someone to draw blood to prove that it was real, I just wanted worse than anything before in my life.

The kisses that hit my lips and face over and over again, felt like water after days in the desert. This time his hands were pressed through my clothes everywhere and I loved him for it as I desperately tried to match him. Ah Vash. Vash, Vash, Vash….

Before I could think, I found myself happily wedged into a corner, my legs thrown around his hips. As we ground against each other, I abruptly realized what this would mean in terms of mechanics in this new situation. I was startled to realize that I wasn't nervous, and getting annoyed things weren't going faster. I tried to find button holes on his coat, but it was as hard as it looked. He, however, had found all my zippers and seams easily. It was a near miracle that I still had most of my clothes on when he came across the scar above my hip. He felt it, then looked at it, then stared. I heard him murmur, scared. His palm fit over the scar tissue perfectly.

He looked up at me, confused as I had only seen in a child, smiled, sputtered, and then began to wail.

I tried to hold him, but he clamped down on me hard. Clutched me, unwittingly bringing pain. I clung back with whatever strength I had as he started screaming then laughing then crying again as he still clung to me.

I wasn't frightened. It just felt good to let him trust me with something like this. I was breathless for reasons I couldn't explain.

And then he put me down.

Under the fading light, his skin was stained in the colors of the coming sunset. "Nick, you need to leave now."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Please Nick. Just go."

* * *

The sheer anger of that moment, that cold command drove me senseless and it wasn't until I just outside the town limits that I stopped.

I got out of the car, and wasted time screaming obscenities at the sky. Then I kicked the car, over and over, until I hurt my toe.

More or less finally cooled down, I looked towards the town. I leaned up against the car and smoked.

The sun went down, and sunset finally came over the land. The few lights still on in the town flickered on.

I watched it all with furious detachment. I wasn't going to help. I was going to stay out of it, just like he wanted me to. I would wait until the explosions stopped, then I'd go in and find what was left of him and bury him.

But nothing happened. No explosions, no nothing.

Maybe the last 'go' was more than a request to leave the town…

And suddenly there was a guy standing next to me. Hadn't been there a moment ago.

His hair was as gray as an old mans, scraped back into a long, thin rope down his back, but his face was young and clearly stronger than I was. He wore a funky black and white trench coat. The jumpsuit beneath it was similar to Vash's, but the serene smile that seemed tattooed on his face wasn't.

His hand clamped down on my shoulder like a vice, and held onto me as he walked us slowly back into town.

"Hey! What the… what are you doing?"

He threw me into the dirt in front of the inn, and planted a heavy foot between my shoulder blades. "Call him."

"What?"

"Call the Stampede." He said, "He'll only fight if he thinks someone else is in danger." He emphasized his point by stepping down into my rib cage. I screamed in pain and the man's ears perked up.

"Good. Now call him by name."

I got as much air as I could into me and yelled, "VASH! RUN!"

He was outside in an instant, the saloon doors flapping behind him like they were trying to catch up. He stopped to pose on the porch, his coat flapping in a massive wind that went unfelt. He looked scared and not more than a little disappointed at seeing me coughing my brains out in the dust.

The man in white and black smiled harder, and pulled something from his coat. It hit the ground with a clank and shimmered in the dirt with dull chrome brilliance. It was a gun, I could see as much. A massive revolver with an extra bar of metal that sat on top of the barrel that didn't seem to have any real purpose.

Vash looked like death as soon as his eyes widened in recognition.

"Where is he?" Vash asked.

The guy smiled.

"Where's your father, Sen?"

"You think FATHER did all this? I must not know my own strength." He threw his head back, "I did this. I did it all. Did I succeed?"

"Sen," he said to the man, "Sen, why?"

"It's what must be done… uncle."

They stared at each other for a while before Vash finally stepped off the porch and into the street. Vash's foot flew out and the gun sailed to the left, down the street. The guy didn't look too pleased.

"Let him go." Vash said.

"Still fraternizing with the humans?" he asked, "Don't you know how much trouble that is?" His foot pressed down into my back and I couldn't breathe.

"Of course I do." Vash said, "You're proof enough of that."

There was plenty of time for me to have my life flash before my eyes and tell myself I was a moron for not leaving as Vash and Sen stared each other down. Then Sen's foot finally lifted and I scrambled to get away.

Vash said something behind me, and Sen gave a cold, hard laugh. I saw a smooth bright movement out of the corner of my eye. Vash shouted.

Being shot hurts like a bitch.

It's not just the sharp metal ripping through your body. Because the bullet spins to get it's speed, your body gets burnt as well as cut. It's a wholly unique experience and one I hoped never to repeat.

I hit the ground hard, and played dead for a few seconds. It was only my left arm, and somehow I knew it wasn't that serious but I was still angry and hurting like hell.

I was bleeding through my old priest's cloak, defiling church property. If I wasn't doomed for hell yet, I was sure to be going there now.

"Why did you do that!" A strange section of my brain told me that Vash sounded really nice when he was screaming.

"Because I'm not my father! Even if he gave into the humans, I won't! And I won't let you give in, not when you're the only person who can help me teach them all!"

"Your mother wouldn't want you to do this!"

"My mother is DEAD! Don't try to sway me with her memory! I'll purge every ounce of flesh and bone tainted by her humanity if it will help me. I will not die at the hands of these filthy… things!"

Something was poking into my side, and I rolled over.

The gun shone in the dust, clean as divine deliverance. Oh god…

"No matter how you fell about them, they are still a part of you. Life of any kind is precious. And I will never join you in destroying the human race."

"Then you have destroyed yourself." The click of changing cylinders sounded loud on the bare street, as Sen aimed for Vash's head.

Oh God, Vash… He was just making this thing angrier… and I realized I had somehow gotten to my feet, that gun heavy in my hand, useless.

But Vash didn't move an inch. He just kept staring at Sen as if that was going to change his mind.

My hands moved and the gun was aimed and fired before I could think.

Sen dropped his gun and went down.

I stood there, clutching the thing with two hands, the injured one making the piece shake like a leaf. It took me a second to realize he was still moving.

His shoulder. I had only hit his shoulder.

Praise God.

…But I HAD been aiming for his head. Was the sight off or something?

Damn, this thing was heavy for a gun.

… but how in hell would I know that?

Vash was in front of me. He looked shocked. Shocked and disappointed.

"Why?" he was cold. Emotionless.

"I wanted to save you for a change… I guess."

"No Nick. That was wrong. You were wrong to do that."

"He would have shot you." I said, a whine creeping into my voice, "I saved your life."

"It didn't have to end like this. There's always more than one answer to every problem. You should have thought before you acted."

"But I didn't have enough time! How am I supposed to think up alternatives when someone's pointing a gun at you?"

"It was the wrong choice Nick."

"How is it the wrong choice! How Vash? I didn't kill him and you're alive! I call that a pretty good decision!"

"It was the wrong choice."

Even the throbbing wound on my left arm didn't hurt as badly as those five little words.

Even my good hand was shaking like a leaf as I dragged myself back to the car.

"Nick."

I bowed my head, trying to fight back the tears. Tune him out, tune him out, just get away.

"Nick, wait…"

I screamed in pure pain as I turned. Vash looked as startled as I was, when I took off the buttons on his sleeves from 20 paces. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, good arm still outstretched.

"You said you never fired a gun before." Vash said.

I thought about that. Realization came and I found myself looking at the gun funny. "But I haven't. I mean, I hadn't. I…huh." I tucked the barrel into the front of my pants and kept walking to the car.

"Nick… no Nick wait…"

There was a scream behind me. Sen was finally realizing that he was in pain.

"Oh god… Uncle… Uncle, help me!"

I heard Vash hesitate behind me, but I kept walking.

"Uncle! Uncle, please!"

There was a pause between the three of us that could have spanned a hundred years.

He went to Sen.

I waited until I was alone on the highway before I pulled over and started to scream.


	7. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 1

Seeking Felicity

The bottles on the broken terracotta wall fell under the bullets like ballet dancers.

The small, familiar crowd behind me clapped with enthusiasm. They had seen it all before, but there wasn't much of else to do in this town.

NeoSky was an aggressively quiet town, and I was still a pretty big deal. I wasn't sure exactly how I had found my way here from April. When I woke up in the local hospital they made mention of heat stroke and infected wounds as if it would help. Or make me forget.

The guy who shared my hospital room owned a bar, which gave me two advantages. First, he was patient enough to listen as I told the whole sorry story, which was the truth except for a few strategic name changes. Second, it gave me a job, as soon as we both were well enough. The pay was much better than it should have been, and it helped to pay for the room I had over the bar.

After a while, they learned about my training and somehow the fact that I had training impressed them more than the fact that I hadn't finished. Out here all they really needed now and then was a little blessing, a little guidance. I was starting to see how things were different out in the desert.

The regulars at the bar tried to christen me as 'Padre', but after a passing salesman tried to insult me, the nickname of 'Preacher' stuck to me.

The people of this town knew me. I had a place here. It felt… good.

It wasn't enough.

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned to see Rick, one of the regulars, smiling. "Hey, Preach, I think we're all funned out for the day. The suns are getting pretty high."

"Well, don't let me stop you, I said, pulling the lever that flung the empty shells up into the air. "Go home and cool down."

He made his way with the other guys back into town. "You coming?"

"Just going to clean up. I'll be in as soon as I'm done."

They waved and went off without me.

I looked down at the gun, unloaded, lying open in my hands. I jerked my wrist and the wheel snapped shut.

The local gunsmith didn't have the know-how to fix Vash's gun, and it took me a couple months of searching before I had found someone who could. The guy had the last name of Marlon. He mentioned it several times during our visit. He also mentioned a grandfather, and a gunfight won without firing a single shot. I wasn't charged anything by the time he was done, and the gun worked like the miracle it was supposed to be.

Today was the weekend, and on the weekends, I'd drive out to the deserts just beyond the town borders and do target practice. Despite the kick on the piece, I had been good from the start. Real good. And I only got better.

I hardly thought of Vash at all. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

The man in the black suit in my dreams, Nicholas D Wolfwood, or what was left of him, was getting more and more disappointed with me. I finally asked what he thought I should do to fix this whole mess. He told me that I had to give back the gun. He was looking for me, and when he found me, all I had to do was give back the damn gun.

When I told him I would, he smiled.

He must have thought we still had a chance.

"You're a good shot."

The guy was behind me, about five paces away. The coat was a green, old-fashioned coat, cut to the waist with long square tails that violently flapped in the slight breeze. The boots he wore were made of pale, odd leather. His hair was short, cropped against the scalp. But with the gunmetal grey eyes you could see on a cloudy day, he looked too close to Sen for my comfort. This, like Sen, was a powerful man.

I wondered if shooting him could hurt him rather than just insult him.

"Am I?" I asked, carefully.

"Of course. Not that children like you should be play with such powerful toys. Especially ones that aren't yours."

"Maybe. But I'm not giving it up to anyone except its owner, if that's what you're saying."

"And here I was hoping I could take it off your hands." He said, casually walking over to me, "Can't say I have no claim on it, it does have a… family resemblance. In a strange manner of speaking"

I aimed at his head. "Forgive me if I'm jumpy about all the resemblance going around."

He held his hands up in mock surrender while his eyes laughed long and hard. "Don't worry about it. I know what my brother can be like. But you shouldn't wave that thing around without any power to back it up. There's only one other gun like it in the world, and they both attract… strange people. You might not be happy to see every one who gets drawn to it."

"You may be right."

"Of course I'm right. I know what kinds of powers you're toying with. You don't seem to have a clue."

"No, but I learn fast." I lowered the piece a few inches, "Ah…Is your… uncle nearby?"

"Uncle Vash, you mean?" The guy considered the horizon as his hands lowered themselves to his sides. "He's closer than you think. But not so close that you should act this careless. You're going to wait for him?"

"If you don't mind…Mr…."

"It's Nim. And no, not at all. I've got my hands full as it is. Things should get interesting very shortly."

"How… interesting is it going to get?"

"Interesting enough that if you are the man of the cloth you claim to be… you'll get out of town as soon as you return my uncle's plaything. Just because you are going to be destroyed, doesn't mean the town has to be."

"Good idea."

"Of course. I'm lousy with those."

I tucked the gun barrel into the waistband of my pants. "I suppose you want me to pay you back for all this good advice."

"Let's just say you owe me one."


	8. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 2

I made my plans. Told my boss as much as I could and packed up whatever I still had. Waiting, after so much practice with it, was no longer a problem. Thinking to the moment when we would next meet was agonizing. My heart lurched every time I pictured him taking the gun, looking at me briefly, and then walking away. If he did walk away, it could be the last time. I hoped I wouldn't have to beg.

Nim had said he'd been looking for me. That was something, wasn't it?

No. I had the gun. The hunk of metal wedged under my pillow. He was coming for that, not me.

After Nim, I would closed the shades at night and take it out, looking it over in the muted moonlight. Unloaded and toothless, I'd run a hand over the barrel. The chrome was coming off around the well used trigger and handle. The dull steel underneath shining a much bluer sheen than the rest of the gun. Used lovingly over the centuries, it must have preformed miracles. Working in harmony with the Stampede. There were times when I envied it.

There was a bullet scar along the barrel that would have taken off a lesser man's fingers. A small scrape, but still a scar.

Scars.

I knew Vash had scars, vast amounts of them. Or I at least thought I did. I had started having other dreams. Nick and Vash and sometimes a bed. You could do all sorts of things with scar tissue. And that bastard preacher knew I was jealous.

I had been in training with the kid who was going to replace me, so I hadn't seen him come in. I did wonder why it had gotten so quiet, but I had guessed it was Ernie, our piano player, who always took a break at 6.

I was tapping a new keg of beer and aligning the spigots when the kid started poking my shoulder.

"Mr. Preacher? W-What do I do?"

"What does he want?" I asked.

"He s-says whiskey."

I raised up, wiping my hands on my apron. I nearly jumped when I realized who I was looking at. I nearly jumped again, when I saw the whole bar was looking at us. The off-duty deputy had a hand on his standard-issue revolver. The boss was trying to figure out which shotgun he should lunge for, and everyone else was trying to figure a way out.

Vash's eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, which seemed to be blazing with their own light. His expression was serious, but relaxed. Still, the package would make a statue wince.

"Don't worry about it kid. Go get another case of brandy out of the basement; the Boss'll give you some chores to do after you're though with that." The kid didn't seem to want to move, so I added. "Go on, get along now."

The kid bolted. The boss made his way to the stairs, but didn't go down them.

"Do you want the drink, or should we just finish this now?" I asked.

"Actually, I could use a glass of whiskey. If you don't mind."

I poured him three fingers of the best stuff we had. "Start on that. I'll be back." By the time I had packed up the rest of the stuff in my room and got back downstairs, one or two of the guys at the bar were working up the courage to talk to him. It didn't look like it would be a friendly conversation. I gave a nod and a sorry smile to the boss, before I grabbed his arm and dragged him outside. I saw him pay as we left.


	9. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 3

He didn't talk until we were in the garage, and he saw the car. "You're taking me somewhere?"

"Just anywhere but here." I opened the door, "C'mon, get in. I don't think we have much time."

I took him out to my makeshift shooting range. The desert had claimed what was left of that weekend's unfortunate bottles and cans. The white terracotta wall was already crumbling, showing strips of rebar.

I removed the gun from the pillowcase I had hidden it in, and handed it to him. He seemed disappointed and pleased.

"Can I drive you somewhere?"

"Aren't you going to get in trouble?"

"Don't worry; I gave them two weeks notice. Another nephew of yours gave me a heads up." I said.

"It's a good town, isn't it?" he asked

"Best I've seen yet. I hate to leave it." I realized, suddenly, "Will they be safe?"

"Safe enough." He slipped the gun into its holster. The glare faded from his sunglasses and his eyes came back into view.

"So… what have you been doing?" I asked.

"Trying to find you. I was hoping you had gone somewhere else. This town and I have a bad history."

He was looking at his piece as it rested in the holster.

"You shouldn't have shot him."

"You don't think he deserved it?"

"No, Sen's had it coming for a long time. But things aren't the way they were after Augusta was destroyed. There's more than just me and my brother on this planet now.

A brother?

I had never knew about a brother, Vash had certainly never told me.

But I wasn't surprised. There had to be a brother. I wasn't that lucky.

"His children will come after you in force now, just because you're a human, and you've become a danger to us, in their minds."

This just kept getting better and better. I was suddenly imagining angry blond legions with Vash's eyes and a taste for human flesh.

"How many kids does your brother have?" I asked.

"Isn't one after your blood enough?"

"Yes, but I'd rather be prepared." I said, "C'mon, tell me."

He looked at me, incredulous. "Can't you be scared, just a little bit?"

"Sorry. I thought you were going to help protect me." I said "Guess I should have asked first."

He didn't answer, and getting nervous, I pulled out a smoke and lit it.

"If I asked you, would you protect me?" I finally said.

"I don't know… Please don't ask me that." He said.

Angry, I crushed out the half burnt cig on the dashboard.

God dammit. Why had I been waiting for a different answer?

"I'm heading to Enpril city." Vash said, "If this hunk of junk can make it there, I'd appreciate a ride."

It was something.

"Sure, we can do that." I told him, "Always wanted to see Enpril."

I started the car, and we were on our way, albeit as chatty as a tomb.


	10. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 4

Enepril was two days away, even with the shortcut over the deserts Vash insisted on taking. We made camp for the night by a large outcropping of rocks. Turned out that he had been there before. He produced a couple bottles of liquor from a cool hiding spot underneath a flat rock. He knew where fire starting material was hidden in the cracks and even a few cans of ancient tomato soup.

We combined some rations for a pot of chili, built a fire and sat quietly around as the pot bubbled and spat.

"…Can I get an answer?"

"An answer?"

"To the question I asked earlier."

"Which one?"

"How many kids does your brother have?

Vash handed me the bottle. I took a swig, while he waited. "There are 6 kids in all. Three sets of twins. Unfortunately for his wife, they had to be born 10 years apart from each other."

Three births, ten years apart each. Even if you started early, that would put you in your Early 50's "She must have a great sense of humor or strong body."

"She had both, I guess. At least until the last set killed her."

I didn't know what to say. 'Sorry' seemed inappropriate. I didn't even know the woman.

The food was done that point, and we quietly busied ourselves with dishing out food and eating in silence.

"He… my brother… was scared to take her to a doctor. Even then he believed that they would kidnap her, take her and the kids away for testing. After each birth, it took her months to get back on her feet again." He said, "Even when it was hurting Meryl, he couldn't trust the rest of them."

Sen had been screaming in LR town that his mother would not taint him.

"Wait… his wife was human?"

"Oh yeah. Trust me; there haven't any fertile females of our kind on this planet. At least outside of the plants. We've both looked for them, believe me."

"But it doesn't seem like any member of your family seems to want to stoop so low as to consider us Humans sentient life… present company excepted, of course."

"I think, at first, he was trying to get back at me. I mean, I wasn't around when it happened… you see, she had a crush on _me_ at first, and because I didn't like her like that, I avoided it for the longest time. I think I could have gotten her to ignore me, after a while, despite her obligations to Bernardelli. But after we settled into the house near December I thought I would have to… I was pretty sure there would have been a confrontation."

I thought for a second, trying to place it all. I thought Bernardelli could have been a clue, but they had been around since planet fall. "What happened?"

"I had to go on a business trip with Milly, she was a mutual friend of ours, and I asked Meryl to stay behind and take care of my brother. He was… badly injured, and I thought it would be a few months before he was self-sufficient. When I got back, it was obvious something had happened between the two of them. When we were alone, he told me that if I ever tried to touch her, he'd break every bone in my body. Later... well, let's just say there was an incident. They decide to move into a nearby house together after that."

"Strange Happily Ever After situation that, eh?"

"Not really. Just after the Sen and Nim were born, Meryl left in the middle of the night, without a word. He found her weeks later, dragged her back kicking and screaming, and locked her in a closet until she would talk to him again. It wasn't what you'd think of as a happy marriage. At least not at first."

We lapsed into silence.

"But I do think they were well matched when it came down to it. My brother is… well… my brother. And Meryl was really bitchy."

"Shouldn't speak poor of the dead."

"I know… But I mean REALLY bitchy…"

Laughing, I passed the bottle back to him. I studied the stars above us for a few seconds, marveling at the way the booze made them splinter and glow, then asked, "Why didn't you want her?"

"Hmm?" he asked, finished his swallow.

"Your brother's wife, why didn't you try dating her for a while if you realized she was making puppy dog eyes at you?"

"She was nice… when she wanted to be. But she… well, she just wasn't my type, I guess."

"Who was your type?" I asked, hoping I already knew the answer.

He didn't give it to me, of course. Just smiled the one smile that couldn't touch the pain in his eyes.

"Do you remember Milly?" he asked instead.

"Hmm?"

"Milly." He said. "She and Wolfwood were… well, they were close. Good friends, I guess you could say."

The way he said 'close' told me more than any memory could. I heard jealousy there, plain as the winds blowing across the desert outside. There was shame in that jealousy, the way you were ashamed at the funeral when you knew the corpse and were glad they were dead.

I reached in my bag and felt around a bit before I found the old color copy I had made of that photo, fading at the creases. I smoothed it flat on a nearby stone, and passed it over to Vash. "She there?

He took it with a touch of wonder and a smile twitched at the corner of him mouth. "I forgot you had this."

"Is she there?"

He looked over the paper a second longer, and then held it up, letting me look at it at a distance. He wasn't going to give me this one, was he? I thought about the way Father Leon told me the Buddists chose their Llamas and looked both girls over. It was a flip of the coin, really, but somehow I didn't have to try and decide.

"The tall one."

Vash blinked at me, and then nodded, with a grin. He handed the paper back to me and I looked it over again, as I lay back on my bedroll. "I don't remember her… but I'll tell you when I do, OK?"

"OK." He passed me the bottle back one more time and I sat up just to take the last swallow. I lay back down and watched the little patterns that the light made on the rocks above us. "Fires in the desert…" I heard myself say. "If they get too big it all turns to glass…"

Vash seemed to go silent for a second, as I bobbed in and out of consciousness. I must have said something important. It made absolutely no sense, but then it didn't.

"Yeah… that last fire was a pretty big one." Vash said.

I no longer had any idea what I was saying. Vash was talking to me again, right? Always a good thing. I was just on the verge of figuring out what it was, when it was suddenly morning.


	11. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 5

Enpril had the quiet that came with a quiet town that was sure of itself and its future. The quiet murmur of people going about their business with a purpose was in every street and alleyway.

We had been traveling for a long time, so the first order of business was getting a room. I wandered off to look over the flyers for local order-in places, and when I got back Vash had already signed and paid for a room for the two of us.

I asked him about it as we were unpacking onto our respective single beds. "It's cheaper." He had said, "And safer."

We got to bed just as noon hit, but our sleep was equally fitful. After a few hours sleep between us, we decided to go out drinking, if for no other reason, than to stop thinking.

The booze tasted horrible, but it worked quickly. By the time we were back to the room, I had learned my first real drinking song. Something about I'm tired and I want to go to bed, had a couple bottles of something or another and it went right to my head. I was practicing loudly, with Vash instructing me between giggles when someone from the front desk came up and told us to shut up or take it elsewhere.

I hit the shower, and when I got out, he had changed into a pair of pajamas that I had never seen before. Worn at the elbows and ready to fall off a shoulder. It was adorable, and I was very proud that I managed to keep my mouth shut.

"You look like hell Nick." He said.

"Thanks."

"You should go to sleep."

"Give me a minute or so." I protested, "I'll be gone soon enough."

His hands slipped over my shoulders like a hug. I stiffed, and then relaxed as he began to rub my back and shoulders. Tension drained out of me. It was incredible.

The smell of his skin was sweet and mild, with a vein of metal and gunpowder. I wanted to touch him. Every inch of him. And I couldn't. I tried to blame his shirt.

He was saying goodbye. I could tell. He wanted me to go to sleep first so he could leave quietly.

He would be gone in the morning, to places unknown. And I didn't have the energy to resist or even cry.

"Vash…" I murmured. All I wanted to do was be with him in the time I had left and even that he was making difficult.

"Go to sleep Nick," he chided.

I didn't have any other options, so I did.


	12. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 6

And I should have woken up to the sounds of that peaceful quiet town, and the emptiness of my partner's bed, but I didn't.

It was pitch black when my arm was twisted so hard I screamed. A hand was already covering my mouth.

"Nick. We've got to go. Be quiet."

Vash. Vash was still here.

He got off me and I rolled onto the floor soundlessly. "Our stuff?" I murmured.

"No time. Go."

I crept along the floor, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I could see Vash's form, the streetlamp's light filtering through the shades, and underneath the door…

Shoes appeared under our door. Came back. Stopped.

Vash pushed me in the direction of the open closet. He carefully took a squatting step back and leveled the barrel.

The door opened slowly. The sliver of light carefully placed where someone lying on the beds wouldn't see it. An impossibly long barrel poked through the door, and leveled itself out. There was the brush of the hand behind the door where I couldn't see. It took me a second to realize that it was skin against wallpaper, and that the gunman was looking for the light switch…

The light flicked on, and it all happened at once.

I knew that the first shot was Vash's, the one that shattered the light bulb with a commonplace pop. The rest I can't be sure of. I saw shadows rolling, I heard grunts, half screams, I heard punches thrown and punches connected but with only the slim light of the hallway, I couldn't really tell what was going on, and I wasn't sure I would want to.

The struggling tapered off and I heard Vash whisper, "Nick?"

"I'm here." I said, starting to move towards him.

"No! Wait..." Vash told me. There were sounds of a struggle

"Can I at least turn on a light?" I asked.

"Not unless you want them to know we got him." Vash said as whoever's body it was hit the floor with a sigh.

I pulled my priest's cloak off of the hanger and slipped it on. "How much time do we have?"

"A few minutes." Vash said, as the door opened a little more. "Maybe less."

I followed him outside, not really looking.

In the light outside, I realized his shirt had gotten torn in the struggle. One shoulder, huge and magnificently scarred poked out of the brown sweatshirt. I gave into my urge to touch it,.

Vash jumped and turned towards me, looking startled and depressed.

"You really do have all those scars, don't you?" I asked.

His eyes blanched. "What?"

"The scars and that mechanical arm," I said, simply.

"How did you know?"

"Long story, just keep an eye out f-"

"Nick, how did you know about my scars?" Vash asked, clearly starting to panic, "I never told you. I made sure never to tell you, or show you or…"

"Keep it down, will you?"

From the other end of the hall, someone started shooting at us, Vash returned first, and suddenly we were in the emergency exit staircase, with nowhere to go but down.

"Nick, tell me."

"Now? Focus on keeping us alive!"

"Nick! This is important!"

Above us, the gunman squeezed off a shot, and Vash returned fire.

"What does it matter? It not like you're going to hang around long enough to understand why, just run off like usual."

"If you knew why, you'd understand."

"If you TOLD me, I'd know!"

More gunfire, and Vash all but threw me out of the door onto the street. Empty, so he took the time to reload.

"Nick, we don't have time, tell me!"

"You want to know? You want to know about my dreams? The dreams I've had all my life and have never been able to confess to anyone, not even the father? I had them before I ever met you! I dreamed of a chain-smoking man in a black suit. He tells me things I couldn't possibly know, he tells me what I most want to do is right… and I think he's been helping me find you ever since I left December… And he looks like Nicolas D Wolfwood."

Vash stared.

"He does! Even before I found that photograph, even before I knew what he looked like, it was him! He's always been in my mind, even when I was young, telling me I had to leave the priesthood, because something was out there waiting for me. When you left he kept telling me to follow you. When I was stuck in NeoSky, he started showed me what you two were to each other, why you're still looking for him even now. You made me feel like a bastard for wanting to touch you, when that was once my reason for living, for existing…" I wasn't sure what was coming out of my mouth now, "… the reason for throwing myself in the hands of death, because I thought one last time you could snatch me from the ashes, and like a BASTARD you left me in December to rot!"

"Nick… Nick, shh…" Vash said, pressing his forehead against mine. I calmed down by degrees.

I could hear many boots running off in the near distance. I wondered if I could manage to kiss him again before we were shot to ribbons.

"All I can think of is how won't even trust me with something as trivial as this…" My hand clamped on his exposed shoulder, right over a large scar. His skin was painfully warm. "…when you know exactly what I am."

"You're serious… " Vash looked completely thunderstruck.

"Do you think I'd go on this wild goose chase if I didn't have anything more than a weird picture to connect us? I've tried to tell you so many times… why wouldn't you help me try and understand?"

Vash quietly got to his feet, took out the guy above us, and grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. He wrapped me up with the warmest hug I had ever been given. Then we calmly walked to the car, me still wrapped up in his arms, being shielded by his body, him casually picking off snipers as we walked along. He only let me go after we reached the street.

"Start the car." He said, "We've got to get as far away from…."

The car sputtered to life as he trailed off. I looked over at him. He was staring off at the horizon.

I followed his eyes, and saw four men standing at the other end of the street. Hands on their guns. I saw Sen right away, and I could see the family resemblance in the other two. Nim was the last to get there, easily walking up and taking his place in the line.

This was it. This is where they would kill me. I supposed I could take some consolation in the fact that Vash finally believed me now. I tried to do just that and just came up bitter and longing.

Vash moved closer to the car, keeping his eyes trained on his four nephews while he did.

"Nick..."

"Vash, it's all right. I deserved it, I'll give myself up. You don't have to-"

"Nick, listen to me. Have you ever heard of a little village named Felicity?"

"Vash what does…" but I thought about it. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. It's a hundred iles outside of December's city limits."

"Down by Felicity, there's a large property out in the desert. It's about 50 iles from the town, and it looks like eight or nine houses stuck together. It's all tied in with a large wrap-around porch. Do you think you could find that property?"

"I could. Why?"

Vash reached into one of the bags we had left in the car. He pulled out a cache of Ammo I thought I had kept well hidden. "If I don't find you by tomorrow, go to that property and wait for me. Don't stop for anything; don't stay anywhere longer than you should. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Then go Nick."

I blinked, uncertain.

"It's all right. Go. I'll take care of this."

I leaned over the passenger seat, to get close enough to whisper to him desperately. "Vash… Vash, you can't think you can…"

His hand fell over mine, calm. But I could see panic, fear and desperation in his eyes, bleaching them out. "Please don't make me yell. They'll understand what's going on if I yell, and then it'll be ten times harder to get you out alive. Please, Nick."

My sight started to waver with the tears filling up my eyes. "Vash…"

He leaned in and kissed me gently and sweetly. I could hear someone gasp down the street, but I wasn't sure if it was the crowd who had gathered or Vash's family.

I pulled back, shifted gears, and floored it.

For a moment I saw Vash as he receded behind me, standing in the middle of the street, innocent in his torn night clothes, holding the gun that could work miracles, wearing a face so pained that could make the devil himself weep.

Then I felt, not heard, the explosion that followed in my wake. The tidal wave of gunshots, the screaming, the metal against metal and the overwhelming destruction. I got down as close to the floor of the car as I could and floored it.

I was very proud of myself later. When I saw the town consumed with a horrible and inhuman light in the rearview mirror, I kept driving.


	13. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 7

Thanks guys, for all the support and wonderful encouragement so far with the Finding Life Series. Hope you'll enjoy the juicy bits to come.

I don't usually do author's notes without apologizing for computer trouble, and this time is no exception. The glitch responsible for the random postings as of late has been corrected, and you should get your fix at a more regulated time now. (Far be it for me to deny ya!)

And, on the subject of writing… After much effort, I've just had a piece of original fiction published. While I've been doing fanfic for years, this is the first time my work has been selected by a literary magazine for publication.

Please, go check it out: http/www(dot)toasted-cheese(dot)com(slash)ezine(slash)6-2(slash)adamkiewicz.htm

And yes, that's my real life name. (You can see why I like to go by 'Lio')

I was hoping not to draw too much attention to myself when I entered December.

I needed gas, and I knew December was the only place I could get it before I finally hit Felicity. But I was worried someone would recognize me. Hold me, force me to go back to scrubbing the floors.

At least the rearview mirror told me that I looked much different from when I had left. My hair had grown out shaggy, tripping over my ears into elongated sideburns. I had a thick layer of stubble; grow from days on the road fearing what would happen if I stopped to clean myself up.

I had found clothes to replace the ones I had left in Enpril. Jeans and a heavy sleeveless undershirt I had heard called a wife beater. I was sure I looked a shady enough character to get past detection, but you never knew.

As I got the gas I made sure to ask for directions to Felicity with a stranger's politeness. The girl, a high school kid, recited them like she didn't recognize me.

It made me realized how tense I was, and what a relief ignorance was. And it made me want to take a real risk.

I was hungry, so I parked what was left of my car in the town square. The row of food carts that usually worked on the cobblestones were still there. Nothing had changed.

How long had I been gone? The church had been getting ready for July 1st celebrations, I remembered it being mentioned in the last service I attended. It was mid-September now June, July, August, September. Only four months. Of course. Why would any of it change?

I had, though, hadn't I? I still wasn't sure if it was for the best or not. Would I still be so happy, if I had just ignored Vash? If I had stayed here when I heard he was in December?

Felix Culpa, Father Leon had once said, the fortunate fall. It was a term that described Adam and Eve and the Apple in the first Eden, long before even the settlers' time. If they hadn't had bitten of the apple in the beginning, none of the worlds problems would have existed. But none of the true joys of the world would exist either. It was a tradeoff of sorts, and supposed to make you feel a bit better.

I bought a gyro from my old favorite cart in the square. The lady didn't recognize me.

I was starting to feel like a ghost.

I started to go back to the car, to get back on the road, but I looked over and saw that bench, the one that had started this whole mess. I couldn't resist moving over to sit down on it. Once more for old times sake.

After I finished half of my gyro, I wrapped it in its foil and lit up. The weather today was nothing like it had been that day. The sun was painfully bright, the faint breeze pulling through the courtyard not enough to pull away the heavy dry heat that clung to you and made you burn easier than you usually did.

The plants were different, I realized. Since I had left, they had turned healthy and green, blooming with small buds of red and white with tiny heart shaped petals.

A hand fell on my shoulder.

For a second, I thought it was Vash. I thought he had caught up with me and was going to chide me for waiting before he lovingly tackled me to the ground.

I should have known my luck wasn't that good.

"Brother Wolfe?"

It was the boy I had worked with in the Sunday school, the one whose name I could never remember. He looked professional in his new uniform, the collar starched and bleached to perfection. He was already starting to prematurely bald, but it made him look the role.

"Excuse me?" I asked, politely, trying to stall, unsure of what I should say.

"Mother of God… It is you! We thought you had been killed, or kidnapped! There was a report that you had hijacked a sand steamer… have you finally come back!

"I'm just passing through… friend." I said.

His look of disappointment was downright professional. "Wolfe, don't act as though we've never met before. I could recognize you even now. I don't know what you're doing with yourself, but Father Leon has been furious. There…"

I interrupted him by standing up. He sounded just enough like Father Leon to turn my stomach.

"Wolfe! Where are you going?"

"Like I told you friend, I'm just passing through."

"You can't be serious! You haven't thrown away your life yet! The fact that you're here is proof enough of that! If you just talk to the Fathers, I'm sure they'd consider letting you take your-"

I glared at him. He took a step back.

The pause that built between us was one of those ones that can only be broken by someone saying something fantastically intelligent, and I was guessing it was my turn.

Still, what was I supposed to say to him? We had never been particularly friendly, and he certainly didn't need to hear the whole story, just as I didn't have time to tell it.

And what could I tell him? Even the dumbed-down version was a guidebook to carnal sins. I had drawn blood, stained church property, gone against my elders, all while chasing after a man whom I had sacrificed everything of seeming importance in my life for the chance to bond with him in… well… a much less than fraternal fashion.

"I said…" I swallowed, my eyes feeling like sandbags. "I'm just passing through…"

"Wolfe…" the brother pleaded.

I shook my head. "All I was doing was passing through…"

I walked away. He didn't come after me.

It wasn't until I had left the town that I realized I had left the remains of my gyro behind. I figured it was an appropriate sacrifice, my appetite had been abandoned as well.


	14. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 8

Felicity had been poorly named. Once they realized I was looking for a certain property they became quite infelicitous. I finally paid my waitress at the local coffee shop enough to get some directions. She said the locals called it The Beyond and that I was a damn fool to go out there.

It took me another good two hours of driving before I finally arrived. The building was off the main road, but visible from it. The tire tracks in the dirt outside might have been decades old. The lands around the building were not a place of great water. I parked the car in what seemed to be a parking lot and got out to look around.

The building itself was massive. Just as Vash had said, it looked like several houses that were fused together to the wrap around porch in an odd glue-gun style accident. It had an odd Technicolor paint job to match, as if each house had been painted a different color before it had been slowly fused together and refused to become homogenized after the fact.. The bricks that fused each of the houses together were unpainted and made from several different kinds of mud, adding to the patchwork feel of the building. There was an outer earthen wall that surrounded the entire complex that was a foot or so taller than I was. The only way in that I could find was a single iron gate that was orange with rust and open as an invitation. The outer wall that surrounded the place was at least two feet thick, and unnerved me for some reason. There were scorch marks staining the inside of the wall that were absent on the outside.

The wrap-around porch was painted whitewash white with pale purple accents here and there. The overall effect was much more homey than I would have thought, yet strangely disconcerting.

"Hello?" I yelled. The echo startled me.

I started to walk around the building behind the outer wall. I noticed each door had a different color, mostly blues, greens and grays. But after a while, I came to a door that was red. Painfully, brilliantly red.

I took a chance, went up and knocked. No one answered so I knocked again, and the door opened of its own volition. Nothing and no one rained down fiery death on me for my intrusion for five seconds, so I went in.

It was warm inside, and for the first time in my life, I understood how warmth could have been soothing. The furniture within, the couch, the bureau, the coffee table was all nice, but obviously second hand, even before they were left to rot here. Overall the place was naturally haphazard, yet somehow neat as a pin at the same time. The only thing that seemed out of place was an old cardboard box that was thrown on the kitchen table, the lid crushed underfoot and lying on the floor. Inside the box was bundle of old red leather, sprinkled with cloth buttons, which had originally been as red as sin. In the fading sunlight I could see the imprint of a huge revolver on the leather. And as I kept looking at it, I realized the revolver that left that imprint was a very familiar one.

I'm still not sure why I took out the red leather from the box. As it unfolded, I saw that it was what I had thought it would be. The coat Vash had been wearing in the color photograph I had found in December's files. One arm was blown off and the leather itself looked like it had been out in the desert, unprotected for years. An old, small, birthday card was stuck at the bottom of the box, signed by Meryl and Milly.

After I carefully folded the coat back up, I replaced the lid, and actually looked out the window. The picture window that dominated one side of the three chair kitchen table had held my attention briefly, but I hadn't actually looked out it. I did now. Then stared.

I found the door out into the courtyard easily enough, but once opened, I stood on the landing with the door wide open, not knowing whether I should go in or out.

The brick that joined the houses together made a huge, private courtyard within, that could not be seen from the outside. Inside the courtyard was a riot of green plants. Living growing, breathing plants. The trees that had heavy burdens of fruit, there was a massive carpet of grass, real grass with a few brightly colored weeds here and there. And against the wall of one huge house at the other end of the courtyard, there was a massive spray of red and white roses, all in full bloom, overcoming the entire wall.

I finally let myself be drawn into the courtyard. I stepped down onto the grass, then stepped back, and took my shoes off. It felt wonderfully cool between my toes. I walked over to one of the fruit trees and looked up. I thought about taking an apple, but that which surrounded me felt so much like Eden, that I feared retribution from a god I was starting to worry didn't exist.

I took my time, slowly working my way across the courtyard. I couldn't turn away from those roses, huge bud in blood red and virgin white. I walked slowly up to the wall and let one roll into my hand, cool and serene.

I wanted to see what was behind this door. I carefully walked up the stars, and had a hand on the doorknob.

Someone grabbed me from behind.

"No! Don't go in there." Vash's strained whisper sounded in my ears. "Never go in there."

I turned around, ready to greet him with breathless joy, but stopped when I saw him. He looked like he had been trampled by a Thomas herd, once if not twice. I kissed him anyway, full and deep, and felt my heart soar when he kissed me back. I could taste blood in his mouth. What had he done to keep me safe?

"Vash?" I asked when I pulled away.

He smiled as he collapsed into my arms.


	15. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 9

The coat was the first thing to go. It had been pulled apart with bullet holes and tears. The PJ's that were still underneath were in worse shape. There were makeshift bandages over most of his good arm and his legs with one wrapped around him at his waist. I tried to pull what was left of his night shirt up over his head, when I saw him looking at me. He tried to help me as much as he could, and we got it off together.

"I didn't think… I'd… make it back…" he gasped.

"I'm glad you did. Is there a first aid kit around here?"

"I keep it under the sink."

It was there, a well-worn tin with bandages that looked no less than a few months old. I took some of the antiseptic he kept with it and went back to clean him up. Some of the smaller wounds had healed and had already started to scab over. I cleaned and wrapped up what was still open carefully.

He didn't take his eyes off me. Even as I worked with some particularly nasty wounds, those half-open lazy aqua-marine eyes fixed on me with the intensity of a sniper.

"Is anything broken?"

"Don't think so." He said, softly.

"How…" I started, then stopped realizing it was a stupid question, then said to hell with it and asked it anyway, "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a sand steamer," he tried to grin.

I leaned forward, and pressed a comforting hand into one of his pecs. Or at least where one of his pecs would be, if it was still there. There was a grate covering what was left of his flesh and giving it some definition so it wouldn't look odd when he wore a tight shirt.

He knew what he was talking about. He had gotten hit by a sand steamer before.

Blinking, I let my hand run wonderingly over the grate, trying to picture what he must have looked like when he was still in one piece.

"Do you remember... how I got the rest?"

I looked up, startled, "I didn't… I didn't mean to say…"

"You didn't say anything."

Then how did he…?

"How did... I get the rest of them, Nick?"

I looked back down at the unwrapped parts of his torso. It came back to me like a bible verse I had learned by rote. I wouldn't have been able to tell him, if it had been him asking me on a crowded street. But here, alone together, with his body spread out beneath me like a weathered piece of holy parchment it came back to me with the ease of a nursery rhyme.

"This one… this one you got when you were standing up for a woman who was about to be evicted by her creditors… you got this one when you tried to break up a bar fight… someone tried to do some sort of autopsy on you while you were still alive… this is just a dueling wound, but you couldn't get help for days and it got badly infected…" my fingers traced each scar, traveling along a path, until I came to the arm. "You got into a fight with your brother… why would he keep your…"

"You were never... told that."

"Oh…." Then, "Oh."

"Mmm…" he said, smiling contently, "Think I'll take a nap…"

"What?" I asked, but he was already asleep.

* * *

He slept a lot in the first few days. It seemed to help him. He'd wake up and a huge scrape was suddenly healed, an open wound growing a scab. I kept an eye on him as best I could, but after a while I got bored enough to start exploring the house. What I guessed to be the office was a room with one desk, scroll-top with multiple pigeon-holes within, and one chair. There were boxes all over the floor, built for filing, but most of the papers were personal, not financial. Little kids drawings were stuck into one wall with thumb-tacks.

The kitchen was big, and the cupboards modestly organized, but everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. There were only canned and dried goods, and most had long since passed their expiration date. A few cans were bloating.

I left Vash in the big room, not knowing where else to put him. There was a couch, coffee table and a dining table facing that big picture window and all those beautiful, heavenly plants. I looked out that window every day, but I feared going back into it without Vash's permission.

I didn't go upstairs. There was a half bath downstairs, and the armchair and its matching ottoman was comfortable enough at night. Upstairs seemed… private.

The first few times Vash woke, briefly, he asked for the basics. Some soup, some water. Dress this wound or that, asked how I was doing. After trying to make conversation for a few minutes longer, he finally gave up and went back to sleep. He seemed to know what he was doing. I didn't even want to think about how badly he was actually hurt. How it was, in the end, all my fault.

After a while, I got so tired of this mental self-torture that I actually started to clean up the place to pass the time.

The place started to feel like home.

I was watching the sunset from the front porch, the colors brilliant over the earthen wall, when Vash came to me. He was on his feet, but his steps were slow and careful.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

"Better than before." He said. "I'm not going to be doing that again for a while."

"Praise the lord." I clasped his waist, carefully.

Vash leaned into the embrace. He began to kiss me up and down my neck. I remembered I hadn't gotten around to taking a shower in a while, and wondered if I tasted all right.

"Y'taste fine." He murmured against my skin.

"Now, I know I didn't say that out loud." I told him.

"Maybe. You look tired Nick."

"Mmm…" I muttered as his lips happily attached themselves to my neck for one long, timeless moment.

"How long have you been up?" He whispered when he pulled away.

"A while," I admitted. "But I've been sleeping just fine. Just that nothing interesting is been happening around here."

He pulled my wife beater up above my bellybutton and pushed the real hand between skin and thin white fabric. His fingers played against my abs. I let myself smile as he nudged his hips against mine. As he pushed them against me. Christ, he was already as hard as a rock.

"I think I'm going to pull through." He said, smiling serenely.

"Good, I was worried. How are you feeling?"

"Awake. Filthy. Need to get cleaned up."

I considered. "Where's your room?"


	16. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 10

He led the way up the stairs. He was still hurt, favoring his left leg, but he wasn't so far gone that he needed my help. A good sign, at least for me.

I expected his room to be more dramatic, somehow. Even clean it was messy, just like the rest of the house. Clothes suited for a farmer or a mechanic hung in the closet. A few carefully labeled shoe boxes for pictures that may have well faded into oblivion by now. A chest of drawers, small table and even smaller chair with dusty letters piled on it pushed into a corner. The bed was pushed against the window and the quilt on top of it was covered in a thick layer of dust. The bed was made, I wasn't expecting that.

He sat down at the table and let me explore the place a bit. I rummaged through the clothes, looked at the small bowl he had on top of the drawers, folded back the quilt on his bed. The bed was what was really troubling me. It was larger than a normal twin, but clearly not built for company.

I turned back to say something, and I saw that he had already gotten up and was carefully pulling his shirt over his head. I closed the distance and helped him. He was smiling when I saw his face again. He spun around, pressed his back into my chest and let me unzip him. He stepped out of his pants, hopped around as he pulled his socks off. He padded his way over to another door and switched on a light. A bathroom, one I hadn't noticed before.

He turned around and smiled. "Change the sheets, will you?" he closed the door, and locked it loudly. Bastard.

I did as I was told, thought it took me a while to find where he kept linens. When I was done I opened up the window to give the quilt a good shake. I made up the bed better than I had back at the orphanage. You could have bounced a quarter off it.

There was still a nagging doubt that I would remember that I had never done this before, freak out and start running for the hills. It was pretty unlikely. I had been through times with Middy that made my libido moan and the rest of me look for the exits. This wasn't it. This was right in a way I couldn't explain.

I plopped down on the quilt and kicked my shoes off. I studied the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths. Interesting ceiling; it wasn't cottage cheese, like so many others I had seen. Course, I had been living out of hotel rooms for quite a while now. Months.

I had found the guest bedroom during my search for the linen closet. It was a miserable, lonely thing behind a tiny door at the top of the stairs. To the duffel bag of my remaining possessions it would be just the right size.

Even if Vash didn't want me, I could stay here for a while, couldn't I?

It was a bitter thought, but I had to consider it.

Time alone lets you have a lot of bitter thoughts.

Too much had gone too good too soon. Bitter thoughts kept coming to me; something had to go wrong. His family would find us. Or the church would track me down. Or a typhoon would hit right in the middle of it all, killing us both.

Or… worse of all… that Vash would realize that he wasn't holding and loving and fucking Wolfwood. That Vash would look down and clearly see that I was not his smooth, scarred, world-weary partner in crime. That Vash would see a green, unscarred former preacher, with his hair grown back straggly. A forsaken child, trying to carve out a normal little life, who had decided one day to follow him to the ends of the earth. Nothing more.

That scared the shit out of me.

It didn't help that he taking so damn long. Fuck, maybe he had fallen in.

I looked closer at the ceiling and realized it reminded me of the ceiling back in my old seminary dorm room. That thing had always put me to sleep. I never saw it during the day, so whenever I was looking at it, I knew it was time to go to sleep… boy my eyes were getting low.

_Hey. Wake up._

The internal voice wasn't mine. The gentle lips that pressed themselves against my temple certainly weren't.

I cracked one eye open and saw Vash. He was smiling soft and warm, as he straddled my torso. He was wearing a towel.

Just a towel.

I woke up.


	17. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 11

"Your turn." he said, a faint blush painting his cheeks.

He looked positively adorable with his wet hair hanging over his face.

I didn't look down at the scars I knew were there. If I was right about this, I could look them over in my own good sweet time. I nodded and he let me up.

I took the quickest, most effective shower I could. He had left the bathroom a mess, puddles of water, towels on the floor. I just added to it in my haste. I gathered up my clothes, and wondered what to do with them. I ended up wadding them into a big ball that I wedged on top of the toilet. I wiped the fog off the mirror and realized I looked old, considering myself. Could have used a shave, badly, but I didn't want to chance a razor in my shaking hands. Crap, I hoped I wasn't reading this wrong.

He was sitting on the bed, leaning against the windowsill with one arm, the quilt slung low over his hips. As he saw me, he kicked the quilt off, casually and just lay there naked.

Those scars so vivid I flinched when I saw just how extensive they were. God, he was magnificent. I couldn't stop my eyes from gravitating to what had been pressed against me moments before. The legends were true. He really wasn't human. Nothing human could be that size.

"Feeling better?" he asked, innocently.

I meant to say something, I really did. What came out was a sound something between a moan and squeak.

He leaned back onto the bed, tucking his arms behind his head and smiled. Inviting as hell.

_Come here Nick._

With as closely as I was watching his mouth, I hadn't seen his lips move. "Vash?" I asked, unsure.

_I said… Come. Here. Nick._

No, he hadn't moved his mouth. Well. That was all right, then. So long as I wasn't going crazy. If this had been nothing more than an elaborate wet dream, I would have had to shoot myself the second I finally woke up.

I walked to the door, locked it, and then on second thought wedged a chair under the doorknob. No chances. I moved over to him and just stood next to the bed, looking over his body. That magnificent flesh, those incredible scars.

Impatient, he grabbed me by the towel and pulled me down on top of him. There was a 'be gentle' spoken or thought, but I couldn't tell you who issued it.

My fingers knew exactly where to go.

Be with a person long enough, you know what pressure points to hit to send them into heaven. The first time out you inevitably do one or two things wrong, just out of lack of familiarity. But with Vash somehow I knew. Like a reflex. I didn't think, I just did.

_Nick? _

Vash was as clearly confused as I was.

"Shh… just… just go with it." I said.

So strange… it had never been like this. Not even with Middy. This intensity, this desire this ingrained instinct that I never knew I had. Not even when we were together in that horrible saloon outside of July, both of us quickly going from drunk to pissed. When we had gotten back to the hotel she managed strip me, saying I owed her for loosing the last poker game, and she knew how I preferred to pay.

But Middy didn't play poker. Certainly hadn't drunk, least not around me. But the memory had to be real; she was calling me Preacher in that sly, knowing way she had always had. That silent, smirking knowledge of our double life that turned vicious as I left on business.

But in memory it wasn't the business for the church. Something else. Damn she had been jealous, hell if I knew why. I hadn't been eyeing anyone else but her, for years before and after. But she had almost throttled me to death when I had told her I was going out again. Kept on yelling at me to tell her outright that I wanted to fuck him, just say it once, you coward.

Her hands as they wrapped around my neck were too big to be a woman's.

What…?


	18. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 12

Anyone who wants to check out my highly-distracting journey to Comic Con can check it out at my deviantArt page "melvinawright"

* * *

Her hands as they wrapped around my neck were too big to be a woman's. 

What….

"Nick… It's all right… I'm here, you can let go..." he whispered. "Just let go, I won't let anything hurt you."

"What's happening to me?" I whispered, my body still in autopilot, still glutting itself on all Vash's heat.

Confused I looked down at him, somehow having managed to roll myself on top. He knew I loved being on top. He had known all those years ago, the first time we had reached out to each other. The insurance girls had long since been ditched, and we had just stared at each other across the canyon of floorboards between the two twin beds in that lousy hotel, one in a string of dozens. I had known then, all I had to do was cross the gulf and he would pull me down on top of him, let me take the lead. He wanted it to be a gift, somehow knowing every man before him hadn't given me the choice, all thinking I had to break before I could be trusted.

But to cross that gulf would to be to cross the brother that was hunting him down beyond that room, striking out at whatever strongholds Vash managed to build up for himself. And as his servant, albeit unwilling to begin with, I knew I would be struck down. I was nothing but a filthy human. Even to the rest of the human race I had been too dirty for words. My hands stained with the blood I had drawn simply to keep myself alive. I had hated myself for allowing myself to continue to live. I hated myself for using the kids as an excuse to keep going on.

But he loved me anyway.

He loved me even with the fear that because we were both men I could reject him. He loved me despite of my past and current bonds. Loved me in a way I had never been treasured before by any living creature, including myself. Loved me because in spite of the lies, or perhaps because our similar masks.

Even if I hadn't already felt the same way I couldn't have helped but respond.

And as I stood over him then, watching his arms reach up to pull me down I was praying to a God I suddenly wanted to exist more than life itself. I just wanted this. I wanted to show him that I loved him with everything of myself that I had left to give. I wanted him to have the last good in me before I had to strike at him to survive. I longed for somewhere else, anywhere where we could have been together. I hoped that we would survive to make that somewhere else, even as I knew I was signing my death warrant.

He was far more confident now than he had been then. Barely experienced with women, he hadn't even taken off his clothes that first time for fear that his scars somehow drive me off. He had been scared of the way his flesh reacted to mine. It was only after nights and nights together that he gained the confidence he showed now. It made me worry about him practicing with someone else.

How long had he and I been apart, really? At least a hundred years since Augusta had been destroyed, and I remembered how red the sky had been afterwards. There must have been someone else. It was a lifetime, more than one. Would Vash have really waited?

How many lifetimes had I gone through to get back here?

"Vash…" I gasped, feeling back in my body again. The memories were still pulling like a taunt string against the back of my skull. They were a leash that could tighten and choke at any moment.

"Shh…. You think too much." He murmured against my cheek.

"Help me." I said, trying to find enough liquid in my mouth to manage to a swallow. "Vash, help me. I want… Oh God, I want…"

I wanted this, but I needed him to take control.

"Are you sure?"

Something was telling me that there was a time limit... that I wouldn't get a second chance to be with Vash. But I couldn't do it alone, knew I couldn't control myself.

Just being with Vash was setting something off.

I'd barely started and I was shaking at the foreign memories were coming back like gangbusters. It scared me to thing of what images I would see during the actual act.

"Please."

I felt suddenly and strangely secure when he rolled on top of me without further protest.

He started manipulating my body with his mouth and hands in ways I had never thought of and enjoyed instantly. Then I realized I had taught him each and every trick all those years ago. I could remember how he reacted to each one. He fiercely enjoyed every inch of my body until I was whimpering, on the verge of screaming. Out of ways to drive me nuts, he climbed on top of me and we undulated against one another, until we were ready to start crying or laughing.

Then, very gently, he pushed one finger inside of me, as I was trying to catch my breath.

The memories came hard and I felt like I had hit a brick wall.

At first I remembered a farm house I had never seen, and a man who I had never met, who grabbed his crotch, quite visibly at my shortened height, and told me I had one more chore to do. I told him that I was his ward, not his whore and he drew back his fist to answer.

I didn't feel the punch, but the abrupt shift into another vision.

I was surrounded by a gang of men, the leader screaming slurs at me, inches away from my face. I'd been instructed not to kill anyone, but take whatever they dished out as a test. It was dawning on me that for all the leaders talk, hunger was blooming in the back of his eyes, and if I wouldn't fight, they'd do everything to break me.

_Nick…_

I came back into my body and realized I was panting hard and sweating harder. Vash's hands had pulled out and were pushing down my shoulders. I begged him to keep going, even as the images kept coming.

Middy, now in an entirely in male form, grabbing my ass telling me we weren't worth enough to act like we didn't give it away.

A strange man in a white coat and blue hair smiling in the distance as pain built and overtook me.

And there was a man who looked like Vash when he smirked, tracing a gloved hand down my abdomen as I lay spent and bleeding. I knew his name, but my mind would not let me remember it.

Vash stopped when he saw that. He would have backed off if I hadn't pulled him back.

"Finish it." I murmured, shaking and scared.

He leaned down, tears forming at the corners of his eyes…

…and he kissed me chastely on the lips…

…and that changed everything.

I remembered him… all the times we had together.

Every friendly spat. Every street-side wrestling for the local children.

His nerves the first time I had let him take the lead.

My growing needs to keep him safe, killing everyone who hurt him.

The pain I was in as the life was slipping from my body, and the determination NOT to show it so Vash wouldn't keep crying.

My hopes, the ones that grew faster than I could cut them down.

The silly plans I had made with myself about taking Vash back to the orphanage after all this was over with and having us live out our lives, or mine at least, with as much quiet as I could find.

All the little hopes and dreams that I had kept silent, not knowing that he heard them anyway.

I found myself in the midst of screaming orgasm far too soon.

I wasn't surprised when I saw his eyes glowing or the wings. He looked dead sexy when it was obvious he was an angel.


	19. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 13

My mind was what woke me hours later.

One minute I was out, the next I was awake and my mind was furiously working. It took me a few seconds, but my brain compartmentalized what had just happened, and more or less decided to understand it.

I wasn't shocked; I accepted everything as easily as I could under the situation. But when I was able to put a rhythm and reason to everything it was no big deal. Here was an old life, discarded with the body I had left. Here was my current life, with all its flaws and mistakes. And here's where they intersected. They were memories. Maybe I had more than most people, but I wasn't angry or testy about it. They had gotten me Vash, finally.

"You don't look insane." Vash murmured beside me.

I looked down at him, happily pillowed against my chest, covered in a light layer of odd feathers. "Now that's one hell of an odd topic for this situation."

"Sorry. I had been hoping this would happen for a while now. I had time to think about it, discuss with other people about what would happen if you did come back. A teacher of mine told me that the process might be so painful that the current you would be destroyed... or at least you'd go nuts in the process."

"You didn't think I was a survivor, did ya?"

"No… I knew you were… always. But I wanted to be careful."

"That's why it took you so long?"

"No, but it was why I didn't jump you as soon as I walked in the front door." He chuckled. Then looked up at me. "You remember…"

"Yes. Everything." I said, "And I'm still here."

"Yes."

We spent most of the morning in bed, playing around with each other, before we finally admitted we needed to get cleaned up. We conserved water and showered together, which turned out to be pretty wasteful. I dressed in his borrowed clothes and picked up the dirty laundry while he made breakfast.

We ate, hung the load out to dry, and Vash told me how he, his brother and the girls had all ended up out here, someplace I certainly had never been. He was afraid to say his brother's name out loud, and it was one of the few things I couldn't remember. I didn't ask, thinking it was for the best.

We passed out, cuddling on the couch.

I woke up warm, in his arms hours later. I had never been happier. Life was perfect.

Well, except for the little sliver of light that seemed to dance across my eyes at the right moment. It was coming from someplace outside, probably a wind chime or something. I heard the distant sound of bells.

I turned over, but it seemed to follow me. Hell. It was really starting to irritate me. Course it could just take a second to fix.

Carefully getting up so I wouldn't wake Vash, I slipped outside.

But as I peeked out the door I realized something unsettling. There was no wind chime. Just a large hunting knife embedded at the top of the earthen wall. Its blade was new and recently oiled. A dark shadow darted at the corner of my eye.

I froze. I began to back inside the house when I heard the hammer of a gun begin pulled back. The barrel was ground into my temple.

Shit.

"Out. Now."


	20. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 14

They dragged me back to the parking lot beyond the earthen wall and threw me down to the ground a few yardz from my own car.

Sen had the gun of course, the black one, and Nim was at his side, face twisted, clearly getting close to having just about enough of this shit. The other set of twins were the ones I had seen at Enepril, but we hadn't been formally introduced. They were more coordinated than their brothers, their faces mirroring each other as their emotions flitted between anger and fright.

"Are you sure you told him?" Sen, talking to Nim.

"Of course I did. I told him in person. Don't you trust me?"

"Mmnh." Sen held the gun with his good hand. "I think we should just shoot him now."

"Father is COMING Sen. He'll be here in moments, even you can sense that. If you don't want Uncle to really get mad, you can wait until Father gives his blessing."

"Uncle could be waking up! I don't want him talking father out of this! Let's just shoot him now!" I jumped when I heard the gunshot; even through my brain registered it was a full inch and a half from my body.

I heard a slap, but I didn't dare to look up. "You are a fucking IDIOT! If Uncle Vash wasn't awake before he is now! Control yourself, will you?"

"I hate you! You never want me to be happy! If you were really my brother you would stand by me while I destroy this useless piece of garbage! Brother…" Sen start sobbing like an angry teenage boy.

Even without looking, I could tell Nim was unimpressed. "Jesus Christ." He muttered.

"I don't get you guys. Why don't we just shoot him in the arm and be done with it?" This was a new voice, and I guessed it to be one of the other twins. His twin piped up with a: "Yeah, that whole eye for a tooth deals."

"It's an eye for an eye, you morons." Sen said distantly, still moping.

"Shut up!" one of the silent twins said, followed shortly by a "Yeah!" by the other one.

"Sen, as always, wants more than what should be coming to him." Nim said. "Honestly Sen, if you really wanted to kill someone, couldn't you have just killed another homeless girl?"

"He was… touching Uncle."

There was silence then, and a rumbling in the distance of a car. The other set of twins feet moved, with shouts of "Father!" and "He's here!"

"I still don't see why that's a reason to kill him." Nim muttered above me, "Uncle has so few living friends as it is."

"No one in this family has friends like… that." Sen said, determined.

If I had been the man I had been when I arrived here, I might have felt guilty.

But I now knew on a personal level, that Vash swung that way. It was bullshit that Sen couldn't see that for himself.

The blow to my head knocked me back on my back. The barrel ground into my nose. When the dust cleared I could see Sen's eyes burning at me with hate. "What. Did.YOU. SAY!"

So mind reading ran in Vash's family.

I wet my lips and, thinking back, chose my words carefully. "I said… your father… is a goddamn whore."

I wasn't entirely sure why I said it. At the time I didn't know any better. But the words felt right coming out of my mouth. The look on Sen's face made it even better.

Sen blanched, then flushed, then screamed, and I was sure that was it.

But I recognized Vash's footfall better than the back of my hand. It came, it dodged, and he fired.

That's when the bullets started flying.

Sen went down again, and I heard one of the quiet twins screech. There was a seconds lull in the gunfire that promised more in a moment, but in that pause a voice full of authority, power, and very familiar said "Enough." Said it firmly and did not expect to be contradicted.

Vash appeared above me, and pulled me up. "Nick. Leave. Go." He whispered as he managed to yank me up into a sitting position.

I could suddenly see everything. One of the twins, I couldn't tell which, had gotten hit on the leg. Sen was clutching at the arm I had already shot, his gaze shooting daggers.

Nim was leaning against an elegant car that had suddenly appeared in the dusty parking lot, freshly shined and without a grain of sand on its glossy surface. He spoke to someone beneath the canopy, stepped back and let two blond kids get out. They were so short that it took me a second to realize they were older than they looked. One kept talking to Nim and the other moved to the back and opened the door.

And a man I never knew I always feared got out and walked among us.


	21. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 15

He was more blonde than Vash, if that were possible. The hair was bone white in the unforgiving light of the sun overhead. It couldn't have been any longer than an inch away from his scalp.

The hair matched the impeccably tailored all-white suit. The cane, topped by what strangely looked like a gold tarantula, was a thick column of rare dark wood.

A matchstick made of that wood would have been worth hundreds on a black market. And his car would have been worth three human lives. At least. This is not a man who would have ever chosen a drifter's life.

But the family resemblance was unmistakable. The face that the short white hair framed was Vash's.

And the differences were just as unavoidable. It showed in the different way the men carried themselves. Vash was eternally optimistic, innocent. This man had never been unstained.

A coil of ice unwound in my belly and began to spread through my chest.

There was a moment of silence as he rose from the car, but as he started to walk towards Vash and me, everyone started talking at once.

I could only make out fractions of the conversations, nothing truly concrete. But he wasn't listening. His eyes were the color of a dying sea. And the way they focused on my face, I knew. He already knew what was going on.

When he came in front of me, he held up one hand, and everyone, even Vash, went silent.

His hand grasped my chin and turned my face left and right.

"A remarkable likeness." He murmured.

"Likeness!" Vash protested.

"Father, what he looks like is trivial; he has insulted my skills as a marksman and the family… your children wait…"

He silenced his son with a look.

He stood, slowly, and spoke. "Chapel would have let my son live with his assumptions."

"Not when they were about to get me killed… Knives."

I heard Vash gasp.

"Humans. They pick up one bit of information…." Knives muttered. The old disgust was still there, but it was the disgust of a babysitter to a troublesome child than a superior being to a far lesser one.

"Knives…" Vash said.

Knives looked over the gathered crowd, then looked back at me. "This is a loaded situation. But…" he pulled the gun, the black one, "…perhaps the best solution is to eliminate the problem itself."

And this is where it should have ended.

I did do some research about reincarnation while I had been waiting for Vash to return and rescue me from the church. The first thing the experts on this kind of thing agreed on was that souls travel in packs. The second was that, left unexamined, your past lives repeated each other.

As Knives had killed me because I had dared to reach out for his brother then, he should have killed me again for the same reason.

But he didn't.

And still, to this day, I don't know what I said to make him change his mind.

My vision had blanched, making even the endlessly pale Gunsmoke landscape look like a blank piece of paper, with shadows grey shadows here and there outlining where its masters stood. Time began to slow down; I heard the hammer of the black gun fall back with a slow, sinister _cl-lick_.

And then I opened my mouth and said something.

While it was my mouth, and my words, I'm still not sure who spoke. Some last of piece of Wolfwood, trying to see this whole sordid thing through, has been my only real guess.

All I know is a second later, Knives hadn't fired, everyone was looking at me funny, and I was stumbling to figure out what I had just said.

"Wait… what?" I asked. "Did I just…"

No one moved for a long second, trying to process… whatever my speech was. Knives was the first to recover, lowering the hammer of the black gun, tucking it back into it's holster, and kneeling down next to me.

"Who do you know me as?" he asked.

"The devil himself." I whispered, before I could stop myself.

The children looked uncomfortable. Vash looked frightened.

"Why do you say that?"

"July." I said, as the old memories rushed through my head, "The Gun-Ho Guns. The populations of the innocent towns that walked into nothingness because you wanted your brother to notice you were still around."

Memories flashed through my mind. I hoped to never see it again.

Knives could read minds. If I had had any doubts, the look on his face would have told me he had been reading mine. He was surprised by what he saw, but as the memories stopped, he grinned. It was a frightening sight.

"Chapel." He was happy to see my return, just not me, particularly. "Yes."

"I'm surprised you remembered a lowly servant."

"You worked hard to distinguish yourself. It's what made me destroy you, as I recall." He lowered the piece, and turned to his brother. "Just how long has it been?"

Vash took his arm and lead him off in the distance. The children, trying to absorb all that was happening, glared at me. I glared back.

"Over a hundred at least…"

"… no hope for me…"

"barely been one hundred since she…"

"… knew what you were looking for."

"…don't you?"

Knives pulled away from Vash, turned looking back over the whole scene and sighed. "Take him inside. I'll keep the children from bothering you both, but I do want to talk to him."

Sen made a noise, but he turned away and walked out into the parking lot.

"Okay. That's fair. Thanks." Vash grabbed his brother in a tight hug, which the blond man fiercely returned

"I'm glad to see you happy again brother." Knives hissed.

The way he said it made me profoundly uncomfortable.


	22. Seeking Felicity: Chapter 16

After days of questions, they still wouldn't tell me what I had said, any of them. The whole twisted family decided to stick around and adjust to the situation, so I had plenty of people to ask. I finally dropped it. Maybe I'll remember it some day, maybe I won't.

Then they had started... disappearing. One by one they all seemed to go out for groceries and didn't come back. Nim was the last one to go. I had found him leaving the house, and I had tried to stop him. He just turned around, winked at me, and then drove a bike I hadn't seen before off into the sunset, on an old Triumph cycle if I wasn't mistaken.

I still hadn't seen Knives, which I was grateful of, but he had said he wanted to talk to me, and the cold-hearted bastard kept his word.

When I found him sitting down to breakfast as I came down one morning the hidden tension hit me all at once.

Knives and Vash had been sitting across the table in their pajamas, angrily eating breakfast at each other.

They looked up when I came down and Knives smiled. "Chapel. We need to talk."

"Breakfast is getting cold." Vash said through clenched teeth.

"We won't be very long."

"Knives…"

"I told you I'll bring him back in one piece. I take your threats seriously, brother. We will only be a minute. Chapel, come."

He walked down the steps, and I followed him out into the garden. Looking back, I saw Vash stand up to watch us go, cereal bowl nervously clenched in his hands.

"I know you're nervous." Knives said as we walked, "You don't need to be. While my attitudes to your pathetic race remained, I've come to admit that occasionally individuals do have some value."

"Still… what have I done to deserve this level of charity?"

"You've made my brother happy. And you've proven that my wife might be out there somewhere. Besides, I promised Vash if this unlikely event did happen, I wouldn't interfere with your becoming reacquainted. In retrospect I should have never let him introduce me to Vodka and doughnuts in the same afternoon, but..." Knives waved his hand philosophically.

"Why did we need to be alone for you to tell me this?"

"My brother doesn't like it when I talk to those he cares about privately, and considering recent events I think he needs incentive to stay on his toes."

"So, you're trying to scare Vash into having more common sense?" I asked.

"Not entirely. You see, before things go any further than they already have, I need your word."

"My word on what?"

"That you take this seriously."

He came to a stop in the middle of a sunny patch of open sky in the courtyard, and looked at me in the eye. Through the eye, even.

"Vash was deeply affected with your last death. While it's understandable that all life is finite, I wish that he… that both of you… are able to enjoy yourselves for as long as can be arranged. "

"I agree." I told him, carefully. "But why is it important to you?"

"Meryl taught us that Vash and I are not separate beings with a strong bond. We are a single being in two bodies. For any true connection outside each other to work there must be mutual agreement between the two of us. It never works otherwise."

He paused for a moment, thinking, and then resumed walking. I followed him.

"Why are you asking me?" I said, "You were far more effective when you were threatening."

"Because, the simplest way I can see to keep both you and my brother safe is through your cooperation. Make no mistake, should you hurt my brother in any way that he doesn't deserve, I will inflict a death so excruciating that whatever scavengers, human or beast, who will later stumble on your remains afterward will be too repulsed to make good used of what is left. Do not tempt me Chapel. If you can remember anything you must remember that I've had ample time to examine your race. We know you can come back, and waiting is not a problem for anyone here."

"Right." I told him.

"But betrayal didn't even cross your mind, did it?"

"No."

"Good boy." He said, "Now. If you are able to remember even a tenth of your previous training, I suspect you can handle anything else that might come along within our clan. My children will warm to you once they accept it, and money is not a problem for us."

"You said that I needed to take this seriously."

"Yes. And that entails that you cut off any old ties you may have with the human race, and destroy any new ones if they threaten the connection you have with my brother.

We came to that magnificent wall of red and white roses.

"Before you answer…"

* * *

Cliffhanger? Yup. Why?

Because…

The Final Chapter of the Finding Life Series… is coming on Friday.


	23. Seeking Felicity: Final Chapter

We came to that magnificent wall of red and white roses.

"Before you answer…" He pulled back the veil of roses, to reveal a stone tombstone with the name Meryl Stryfe and two dates. I leaned down on my knees and sat on my ankles to examine it. The only ornamentation on the simple block of stone was pale moss crawling up the sides.

"She worked for years, wading through paperwork and red tape to ensure that this land would never be claimed by anyone besides our family. She helped us lay brick and tile, did plumbing and helped construct the outer wall when she was the human equivalent of 8 months pregnant. While early days are always hard, your life here, even with its advantages will be no easier.

"Trouble has always found us like sand flies find honey. If there is an angry man outside our walls an angry mob will follow. If there is a bandit looking for a tribute we will not give, his clan cannot be far behind. The days there are no bullets flying, there will stone cold silence that has driven others mad in a matter of weeks. If you need to leave this place, you will only do so with my brother. You will be treated with a mixture of suspicion, forced politeness and disgust no matter how far away from our homestead you both stray. You may have experienced some of this tracking my brother down, but once you commit yourself to us, you will experience it for the rest of your life. This is the price that humans… any humans, pay for traveling with our clan. Most consider it quite steep."

I ran my fingertips with brief reverence over the cool stone before standing up. I looked around the quiet garden, up at the blazing hot sun that was turning everything beyond these walls further and further into desert.

"It won't be a problem."

"You seem certain."

I realized, for the first time in my life, I was. "I walked back into hell to find Vash again, I can handle a little inconvenience."

He smiled. "Good."

"Knives." Vash said angry with a shaking voice.

Knives and I both turned and looked. Vash was still dressed in his PJs, his hair down and sticking out in different directions. His eyes showed pin-point pupils. There was a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Knives leaned in and pressed his forehead against his brother's. "Shh…" he murmured.

"I meant it…" Vash murmured, "I meant every word."

"It's all right." He looked at me. "Chapel, take his hands."

I held out my open palms, and Vash forced his fists open, letting the blanket slip off his shoulders. His real hand was shaking and felt cold to the touch. Knives' hand pressed against the back of my head and pressed my forehead where his and Vash's met. It was odd as hell looking at everyone close up like that, eyeball to eyeball. Knives and Vash had the clearest color in both their eyes. They looked like twins this close. You'd never see it from a distance.

"My terms still aren't a problem, are they Chapel?'"

"No."

"Good. And you, Brother?"

"Of… Of course not."

"Mmm." Knives muttered. He placed a hand against the back of both of our heads, and pulled away, while he held us together touching forehead to forehead.

He closed his eyes briefly, and then released us. "There. Now get the hell off my property."

He walked, back straight as an arrow, into the house, happily whistling something that sounded like the old colonist song 'Sound Life.' Vash was still looking at our hands, where they hovered clasped together.

As the screen door on Knives' porch swung close Vash finally looked up at me. Tears were pouring down his face.

"You're sure?' he asked

"I've made my decision." The finality of those words rung true. This was it. This was what I wanted. "Should we… maybe… move?" I asked, sure but not really sure about what had just happened with Knives. Vash broke down laughing as he began pulling us back to the section of the courtyard in front of his house.

We ended up in a pile in front of his steps, rolling on the ground unable to stop laughing about a morbid joke that had never been voiced.

In that moment, somewhere in the back of my mind the final breath of a man in great agony sounded alone in a quiet holy place. An old life gone with nothing lost but the pain he never knew he could stop carrying.

* * *

THE END

* * *

Check out Lio's current projects at 'Melvina Wright Studios'. (Link provided on her'profile' page.) 


End file.
